


Leverage: Experimental Friendships

by Gilbert_H_Karr



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-15
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-07-15 04:41:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 44,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7208153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gilbert_H_Karr/pseuds/Gilbert_H_Karr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This piece has an episode tag to the Experimental Job. Hardison is hurt when the dust men attack him, and Eliot patches him up. But Eliot has his own wounds to care for, and not all of them are physical.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Alec Hardison was telling story after story, and hoping desperately that no one noticed how bad he felt. He had faced the facts long ago—telling stories aimed at entertaining the others, and occasionally making them laugh, was just what he did when coming off of the adrenaline rush after they had pulled a job. It was as much a part of his character as Eliot's growl or Parker's ability to just fade in and out of any scene at will. Hardison was glad it was dark in the van, so no one could see that one hand favored his ribs as he laughed at his own stories.

  
Eliot heard the strained quality of the other man's voice, though he was doing an admirable job of hiding it, and filed the information away for later. Obviously, Hardison wasn't wanting anyone else to notice, and that by itself, made him rise a notch in Eliot's estimation, but it was also slightly disturbing. Having spent time with the man in basements and other tight spaces, as well as a forest, and having heard him complain about everything from dust mites to skunk weed, Eliot had figured they would hear about Hardison's injuries all the way back to Nate's apartment. The fact that he didn't want to talk about it made Eliot wonder if there was something else going on there. There would be time enough to deal with that later, and truth be told, none of them wanted anything more than to get home, take care of business, and go to bed. This job had been exhausting for all of them, but especially for Eliot and Hardison, and they still had some loose ends to tie up tomorrow.

  
There was an audible sigh of relief as Sophie finally pulled the van into the parking garage behind Nate's apartment building, and they all got out and trooped inside, and upstairs to Nate's apartment. It was after midnight, and when Nate saw Parker gathering her personal belongings, he insisted on walking her back downstairs and seeing her safely to her car. While he was gone, Sophie headed to Nate's kitchen, where she started to wash up, and Hardison started looking like he was about to leave as well. Eliot winced inwardly at the stiffness of his gait, and without a word, he grasped the younger man's arm and steered him into the room which was attached to Nate's apartment when Hardison bought the place, and was mostly used for storage, but which Eliot had stocked with medical supplies and set up with a laundry sink and a cot, so he could treat various injuries that might require a bit more privacy than Nate's living room afforded.

  
He settled Hardison on the bunk and said, in a dangerously quiet voice that cracked like thunder, "Dammit Hardison, when were you planning to let somebody look at your injuries? You could have internal bleeding."

  
Hardison visibly deflated. He should have guessed that Eliot would know. He mumbled something in the general direction of Eliot's shoes, looking at the floor.

  
Eliot said, "Take off your shirt."

  
Hardison shook his head.

  
"Take it off or I'll cut it off."

Hardison tried, but after a moment he slumped back against the wall, hissing with pain. "I can't," he said, before his breath left him.

  
"Easy," Eliot said softly, hand on his friend's shoulder. "I need to see what's going on. Let me help?" Hardison nodded, and as Eliot prepared his supplies, he said, "I hope you aren't too attached to your clothes." Hardison shook his head, and with practiced ease, Eliot cut both shirt and sweater off of him, and gently began probing his ribs. When he was finished, he moved to the back, and his hands checked for bruised kidneys. When he found a particularly tender spot, Hardison cried out in pain, and Eliot winced inwardly again. Eliot knew the younger man would take his cues from Eliot, so he covered by growling, "Settle down. You act like you've never had bruised kidneys before."

  
That remark didn't have the intended effect, and a rather awkward silence settled between them, leaving Eliot casting around for something else to say, while Hardison stared at the floor again.

  
"You kicked ass today," Eliot tried, and when the hacker looked up at him with a rather dubious expression, he added, "I mean it."

  
"More like got my ass handed to me," the hacker said, with a trace of bitterness. Fighting had never been his strong suit, and Eliot's remark made him feel like the hitter was mocking him. Or maybe he was just cranky because he was in pain. Or both. He turned his head away.

  
"This was not your fault," Eliot said firmly. The hacker seemed to be listening, so he continued, "I meant it when I said you kicked ass. You fought well until they ganged up on you, and not many people could hold their own when it is three against one."

  
"You do."

  
Eliot let out a short bark of a laugh. "It's my job, and I have specialized training. Yes, there were some parts of the fight that could have gone differently, but that doesn't mean you didn't fight well. I can teach you some things if you want to learn, but not tonight. Tonight, I need to check for a concussion, and then we need to get your ribs wrapped, and get some cranberry juice into you for your kidneys, and we'll get you something for the pain, and then you need to sleep. You can sleep in here, and I'll take Nate's couch." As he spoke, the hitter withdrew a penlight from his pocket, and shone it rapidly back and forth in Hardison's eyes. He blinked several times and turned his head away again.

  
"I know this one's no fun, but I'm almost finished. I need you to look at me, and hold still." Hardison did so, and after a moment, Eliot slipped the light back in his pocket, and treated his friend to a brief smile. "No concussion."

  
He gently lifted Hardison's arm above his head, and began wrapping the elastic bandages around his friend's midsection, finally clipping them with the small metal clip that comes in the box. Reaching around behind him, he opened a small refrigerator that Hardison hadn't noticed before, and took out a bottle of unsweetened cranberry juice, which he opened and handed to Hardison.

  
"Drink up." Hardison took a swallow and made a face.

  
"Man, I can't drink this. It's bitter."

  
"Man up. Drink it. You need it." While he was talking, Eliot was rummaging in the first aid kit he had been using, and failing to find what he was looking for, he rose and moved to one of the cabinets on a side wall. He withdrew a syringe and began filling it with the contents of a small vial. As soon as Hardison had finished drinking a satisfactory amount of the cranberry juice, Eliot took it and put the top back on, and set it back in the fridge. Moving over beside Hardison again, he injected the younger man with the contents of the syringe, ignoring his protests because he knew this was what the hacker needed to get better, and then he stood watch over his friend until he faded off to sleep.

  
Eliot then cleaned the small office, for lack of a better term, and moved out into Nate's living room, to find Nate sitting at the breakfast bar, nursing a shot of whiskey, with a beer on the bar beside him.

  
"It's almost two in the morning, Nate. What are you still doing up?"

"I wanted to see how Hardison was doing."

  
"Those boys did a number on him, but he'll live."

Nate slid the beer over in front of Eliot and asked, "How are you?"

  
"What? Oh, I'm fine."

  
"Are you sure?"

  
"If you are thinking this whole experience with the interrogator is going to bother me, you can wipe that right on out of your head. I told ya, I'm fine."

  
Nate held up both hands, palms out, in a gesture of surrender, and said, "That's all I needed to hear. I'm off to bed. Goodnight, Eliot."


	2. Chapter 2

Eliot settled down on Nate's sofa, and closed his eyes. He knew Hardison would be out for awhile, and if his friend needed him, it would be later in the night, or on toward morning. He might as well get his requisite ninety minutes a night now. Eliot didn't sleep anywhere he didn't feel safe—that was the price he paid for the life he used to lead—and he seldom allowed himself to sleep anywhere remotely public. Even though he felt safe (mostly) at Nate's, he seldom slept there, either, but he had resigned himself to not having any choice tonight. He hadn't slept at all for the past few nights, due largely to the fact that the psych building was not only very public but also felt very unsafe. And that didn't even count the fact that because of the 'experiment', it was cold and loud. He laughed sardonically, at that thought. He had slept all over the world, in places that didn't even qualify as a sleeping chamber, like the middle of the jungle or the top of a tree, under all kinds of conditions, and when he thought about it, he probably got more sleep when he was a killer than he does now. He frowned, and made a mental note to give that thought further consideration at a later time. His eyes opened again, and he sighed.

Eliot knew what kind of trouble the human body got into when a person didn't sleep. Actions became slower and less defined, clumsier. Vital functions started shutting down. Ruthlessly, he clamped down on that thought—he wasn't helpless or hopeless yet, and it wouldn't come to that. He wouldn't let it. Maybe a workout would help. Launching himself off of the sofa, and walking as quietly as he did when sneaking through the woods, he slipped out the front door and went for a run. He was back two hours later, and without a sound, he slipped into the room in which Hardison was sleeping. That was the main reason for joining the two rooms together—the room to which they created access had been an employee lounge, complete with restroom, back in the days when apartment buildings had doormen and elevator operators, and other attendants. It had been closed off for years when Hardison found it on the blueprints of the building, and realizing it was right off of Nate's apartment, which was also the team's headquarters, he decided to give them access to facilities without them having to invade Nate's privacy. They had renovated it, replacing the existing fixtures as needed, and adding a shower, and he was grateful to have access to a shower. Maybe the two together, a run and a warm shower, would help him fall asleep.

He turned the water on as hot as he could get it, then climbed in and just stood, letting the hot water wash over him. He felt his muscles starting to relax as he bathed and washed his hair. Fifteen minutes later, he was out, dressed, and toweling his hair dry. It was around 4:30. If he tried, he might still get his 90 minutes in before anyone else woke up. Moving silently back to Nate's sofa, he put a towel under his head, so that he wouldn't get the cushion wet, covered himself with a blanket, and closed his eyes. He stayed that way for thirty minutes before deciding it was no use, and getting up. He checked on Hardison, and as he reached to straighten his friend's covers, he saw his hand shaking. Cursing to himself, he made his way over to the small refrigerator and took out an energy drink and downed it. It was not the ideal solution, but it would do for now. They still had work to do, and when this job was over, he would go away for a few days, until he had dealt with the problem. He sat next to Hardison's bed, in the desk chair he had placed there, making notes in a file (recognizing the prudence of keeping some form of record, even if they were in a shorthand known only to himself, in the event they were ever needed) and waiting to feel more in control of himself again. It took almost thirty minutes before he felt like his old self again. Still, a tiredness lingered in the periphery, like a tiger waiting to attack at the first sign of weakness.

Rolling the chair over to the makeshift desk, he quickly filled a syringe with a stimulant from his first aid kit, he then capped it and slid it into his belt loops. There was no telling how long the job would run today, and he had to hold it together until it was over. He hoped it wouldn't take long to tie up loose ends, and he would never need it, but he also knew that these things had a way of dragging on, especially when people hoped they wouldn't. Satisfied that he had done all he could for the time being, he moved out to the kitchen and started cooking breakfast.

By 6:30, he had a spread of eggs, bacon, homemade biscuits, fruit cups, yogurt and granola laid out on the bar, and Nate and Sophie came downstairs raving about the wonderful smells permeating the apartment.

Nate sat down at the bar and asked quietly, "How's Hardison?"

"He's fine. I gave him some morphine and he slept through the night. He's probably gonna be stiff this morning, though. How long before we have to be back at the school?"

"A few hours."

"All right. Help yourselves to breakfast. I'm going to wake Hardison up and put him in a hot shower. It'll help the stiffness. Except for his ribs, which will take a few days, he should be good as new this morning."

Parker had arrived and they had all finished eating by the time Hardison found his way to the kitchen. Eliot motioned him to his regular seat at the bar, and put the plate he had saved for his friend in front of him before he went back to cleaning up the kitchen. He was glad the hacker seemed none the worse from his experience the day before. It would be time to leave soon.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Eliot had led the team that turned the psych building into a holding cell for Mr. Zilgrim's benefit, and judging from the comments he had heard from the other veterans involved in those experiments, he wasn't the only one taking an undue amount of satisfaction from making the kid squirm. His first inclination, when he heard the girl's story, was to show this punk how the CIA and other special ops agencies actually do things. He could have closed him out with no trouble, and just because he didn't do that anymore, didn't mean that he wouldn't consider it when there was sufficient cause. He might even act on it, if this were a side job. The best hitter in the world sometimes found it necessary to keep his reputation intact, and if push came to shove, he was sure he could make Nate understand the importance of that decision.

Now that Conrad had crawled back into whatever hole he had crawled out from, and Zilgrim was in jail, the team was working to put the homeless veterans in touch with resources that could help them get back on their feet. There wasn't much for Eliot to do except provide the usual security for the team, and the lack of sleep over the past few days was quickly catching up with him. He put out a hand and gripped the edge of a concrete ledge that topped a stone wall on the campus, as his vision went blurry for a moment. Exhaustion settled over him like an invisible weight, embedding itself in every fiber of his being, and yet he couldn't shake the hyper-vigilance or the strange energy that imbued him. He had started shaking again, and was having trouble breathing. He quietly edged away from the rest of the group, and walked a distance away, withdrawing his cell phone from his pocket as he did so. This was not the phone that he carried for the team, nor was it one that Hardison knew anything about or could track. This particular phone was one in which he kept the contacts that were useful from his past life, contacts that could help him when the need arose, and some that he kept in there so that if they called, he would know he needed to get out of town for awhile. For Hardison to have knowledge of any of them could be deadly both to them and to Hardison, not because he would do anything with them that he shouldn't, but because those that might be looking for them didn't know that, and the young man was sometimes too curious for his own good.

Scrolling down, he found the contact he wanted from the list, pushed the button, and then turned away from anyone who might see him and spoke softly. A moment later, he hung up, and found something spongy in the woods, squeezing it in his hand until a vein popped up in the crook of his elbow. He slid the syringe out of his belt loops with the other hand, uncapped it with his teeth, slid the needle into the vein, and injected himself. Recapping the syringe, he put it back where he got it, and stood, slightly bent at the waist, with one hand on his thigh and the other putting pressure on his arm where the needle was withdrawn. The stimulant both strengthened him and made his shaking worse. He wasn't sure this was better, but it was, at least, manageable, and would allow him to do his job until he could get away, back to a place where there was someone who could help him reset his body's natural rhythms, so he could sleep again.

When he was sure he was steady enough to do so, he walked back up to the rest of his group. Two hours later, they had finally tied up the last of the loose ends and they were getting ready to leave. Nate glanced over and his eyes widened slightly at the look of the hitter. He wanted to say something about it, but he knew Eliot wouldn't take kindly to him calling everyone's attention to it. Much better to wait until they were alone. Eliot glanced up and his eyes met Nate's, and the look on the older man's face wasn't lost on him. He must look pretty rough if someone else noticed. Stepping up beside his friend and boss, he spoke so softly that Nate wasn't sure if he actually spoke the words or not.

"I'll make it, Nate." He had to stop for a moment to catch is breath, and Nate found that alarming. "I would tell you if I couldn't. I'll explain it to you later. Please don't let the others know."

Nate couldn't help thinking that if the others looked at the hitter properly, they would know, but he didn't say that. He just nodded. It was important to Eliot that the rest of the team saw him as invincible, lest they lose faith in his ability to protect them.

"How can we help?" Nate whispered, just loudly enough for the younger man to hear him.

Eliot shook his head, and then said, "This is beyond my ability to fix for myself, so I called in a friend to help. He'll meet me at the office tonight. I don't plan to explain his presence to any of the others, at least not until afterwards. If you want to help me, deflect their questions, or shut them down. Keep them out of the room while we are working."

"Two conditions, Eliot." Nate ignored the hard look the hitter gave him, and hurried on. "One—you let us hear what he says, so we know how to help you."

Eliot considered for a moment, then nodded his consent. It was a reasonable request. "Two?" he growled.

"Two—you explain all of this to us when you are feeling better."

"I can only make you this promise—you will understand everything you need to understand by the time this is over."

"Fair enough."

(0o0)

Nate had decided that the best way to keep the others out of the room with Eliot and his friend while they were working was to keep them away from the office altogether. Tonight, that meant taking everyone out to dinner. Eliot begged off, claiming fatigue, which everyone understood, considering he had been awake pretty much all the time he was in the cells at the school. Eliot had said he thought his friend would only need a couple of hours to do whatever it was he was planning, and he didn't see any reason why they wouldn't both be waiting for the team's return. Dropping Eliot off at Nate's apartment, the others immediately got back on the highway and drove away.

Once inside the apartment, Eliot walked back into the room Hardison had slept in the night before, and stripped the sheet off the cot, and then took the sheet and the blanket and placed them in the washing machine, turning it on. He opened the linen closet and took another sheet and another blanket back into the room with him, and in a matter of moments, the cot was again set to rights. He had just finished his work and started pacing the living room when there was a very particular knock on the door. He ushered an ancient Japanese man inside, closing and locking the door behind him.

"Sensei. Welcome," Eliot said, bringing his right fist up in front of his chest and placing his left hand, open, on top of it, and bowing.

"Tsuneo. Hello" he said, returning the gesture and the bow. "You look tired, my friend."

"That's why I called you. Come with me." Eliot turned and walked into the room in which he had just been working, and sat on the bunk, motioning his friend to sit in the desk chair.

Instead, the sensei sat on the floor, and with a simple motion, invited Eliot to join him. Eliot did so, choosing to sit directly across from him. The sensei lit two candles, and then reached up and turned off the lamp, letting the room fall into dimness. Reaching out, he placed a hand over Eliot's eyes, which were already closed, and said, "See what is inside you as it is, and tell me."

"I have not slept for a week. I cannot meditate. I have a strange, almost manic energy, so I can't stop moving, yet I am exhausted. I need to sleep, but it is as though my body doesn't remember how."

Reaching out, the man grasped one of Eliot's hands at the wrist, counting his pulse. Frowning, he did it again. Meeting Eliot's eyes, he said, "Your heart is racing."

Eliot nodded. "Probably a result of the stimulant."

"What stimulant?" Eliot told him the story, and he said, "You know better than that, my friend."

Somewhat defensively, Eliot replied, "I didn't feel as though I had much choice. There were others depending on me for their safety, and I had to be able to protect them until the job was done."

"How much of this do they know?"

Eliot shook his head, not meeting the other man's eyes. He didn't expect anyone else to understand this. Hell, he didn't always understand it either. Feeling a hand on his arm, he looked up, to find his sensei still watching him. The sensei must have seen something in his friend's eyes because he nodded once, and didn't say anything else until a few minutes later.

"Have you analyzed a blood sample to be sure this isn't the result of some type of foreign substance?"

"No."

"That's our first step, then."

Eliot gathered the supplies he needed. The man sitting across from him was a Naturopathic physician, as well as Eliot's martial arts instructor, so Eliot knew he could talk the man through drawing blood, if he by some slim chance didn't already know how. That said, there were some things it was just easier for him to do himself. When his friend saw him bracing his left arm on his lower thigh and knee, he reached over and grasped Eliot's arm right above the elbow. The slight pressure would act as the tourniquet it was impossible to tie with one hand. Eliot grunted as he slid the needle in, and then watched with fascination as the two vials filled. He withdrew the needle and bandaged himself while his friend rummaged through his pockets and bag.

A portable microscope appeared from somewhere, and it was then that the sensei rose, set the microscope up on the desk, and seated himself in the desk chair. For fifteen minutes, he performed tests on both vials of Eliot's blood, and then turned to find his friend seated on the bunk.

"Tell me about this mission you just completed."


	4. Chapter 4

Eliot shook his head. "I can't."

"I'm asking because it appears you have been exposed to organophosphate poisoning, and I need to know what kind."

_Nerve gas!? Just wait until he got his hands on Zilgrim and Conrad now._

All he said was, "Nerve gas? Huh. I can probably find out what kind. Does it matter to the treatment?"

He took out his cell phone again, and scrolled to another contact on the list, and then sent a quick text message.

"No, the treatment is about the same for all of them, but the side effects of the treatment are worse with some than others. I would like to alleviate those for you as much as possible."

"I've asked a buddy in the business. I'll let you know what he says."

"All right. What will you tell your friends?"

"I would rather not worry them. When I get hurt, they get a look about them, like they—well, not exactly like they pity me, but like they feel guilty. None of this is their fault, and I don't want to burden them with it. I'd rather go back to my house, and get better, and then come back to the team."

"And how do you think they'll feel about that? They feel guilty because they aren't sure how else to feel. Most of the time, you are taking the hits so they don't have to, so when you get hurt, you can't blame them for thinking, however briefly, that it should have been one of them. Allowing them to help you, no matter how hard it is for you, is allowing them to say Thank You for what you do for them. They need that, and you need it, too, whether or not you want to admit it to yourself."

"So what's the treatment?"

Before his friend had a chance to answer, Eliot darted across the small room with lightning speed, picked up the trash can sitting next to the desk, and emptied the contents of his stomach into it, not that there was much to empty, since he hadn't joined the team for supper. When he was sure he had finished, he moved to the laundry sink and washed himself off.

"You did the right thing taking a shower and changing clothes."

"You'll need to gather up all of the clothes I was wearing, including my shoes, and throw them out."

"Shouldn't I burn them?"

"Not unless you'd like to expose yourself as well. Put them in a bag, seal it up, and I'll ask my buddy how we need to dispose of them when he calls me back. Wear gloves to do it, and don't let them touch any other part of you."

Just then his phone rang. Eliot didn't say much, he just listened, mostly, but the sensei could tell that the voice on the other end was highly agitated—and heavily controlled. Finally, Eliot said, "Yes. Which one was it? All right, we'll look at both. Thank you. Above McRory's bar. Apartment 2A. I'll explain later. No, now don't come bustin' in here, scaring everybody. I'll text you and let you know. How should we dispose of my clothes? All right. Thanks. I will. Bye."

"What did your friend say?"

"Said it sounds like Sarin, but you should look at VX as well. He's bringing by some medicine that will help in either case, and will take my clothes with him when he goes, and dispose of them."

"You lie down over here, and keep that trash can close to you in case you need it. I am going to write a prescription for the drugs I need. Do you think your friends would be willing to pick them up from the pharmacy on the way back?"

"Yes. Will you sit with us while I explain it to them, in case they have questions?"

"Of course. I will not leave you until you no longer have need of me. You cannot treat this yourself."

Eliot picked up his Hardison-issue cell phone, and asked Nate to stop by a pharmacy while his friend used his other phone to call in the prescriptions he needed.

"Are you finished?" Nate asked. Eliot knew what he was really asking,  _"Are you ready for us to come back?"_

Smiling, Eliot said, "Nate, if this had been what I thought it was, you wouldn't need to be stopping at a pharmacy. We'll explain everything when you get here. Are you still eating?"

"No. We just walked out. We'll stop by the pharmacy and be there soon."

"All right. Thank you, Nate. I owe you one."

(0o0)

Four chairs had been pulled into what had been affectionately dubbed the sick room, just since yesterday, and Eliot was sitting on the bunk, while his friend sat in the desk chair, preparing the IV he would use to treat Eliot. They faced Parker, Hardison, Sophie, and Nate.

"This is my friend, Master Yu. He's a Naturopathic physician, which means he has studied both Western-style medicine, and the remedies of the far East. I called him for help this afternoon because I was having trouble sleeping last night, and then I experienced blurred vision, tremors, and a loss of breath for just a moment on the job this afternoon. I thought it was just that my body had gotten into the habit of not sleeping, since I wasn't able to sleep for a week when I was in that cell at the school, and Master Yu is very good at helping people re-adjust their sleep rhythms. When he looked to see what the problem was, he actually found something very different. In the course of the experiment, they apparently released Sarin into at least some of those cells, which means the other veterans will need to be tested for exposure as well."

"Sarin?" Hardison asked.

"It's an organophosphate." When the hacker still looked confused, he said, "Nerve gas. I'm gonna ask Master Yu to draw a sample of your blood, too, Hardison. You could have been exposed to it while I was treating you."

"Oh, no! No, no, no." The hacker stood up and moved toward the door, but found Nate blocking it. The mastermind put his hand on the young man's shoulder and spun him around, pushing him into the chair directly behind him.

The hacker's eyes were pleading and his voice sounded a little bit like that of a small child when he said, "Eliot, will you do it?"

Eliot bit back a smile, and he and Master Yu exchanged glances. Master Yu nodded.

Eliot readied his materials, then glanced at Hardison, whose eyes were wide and who was turning more pale by the moment. "Give me your arm and look at Nate," he growled. Under his breath, he added, "focus on controlling your breathing. If you don't move or flinch, I won't hurt you." Then, to distract Hardison's attention, Eliot said, "So, tell me about dinner, Nate. What kind of restaurant was it?"

Knowing what Eliot was doing, but also knowing that he was probably genuinely interested, Nate launched into a fairly extensive diatribe about the meal, the service, and the atmosphere of the restaurant in which they had had dinner. By the time he finished, and Hardison thought to glance back over at Eliot, the second vial was almost full. When he saw it, he grew pale again, and Eliot growled, "I said, 'look at Nate'." Swallowing hard, Hardison did, and a moment later, Eliot withdrew the needle and bandaged his arm. Sitting back in the bunk, Eliot looked hard at the hacker, but his voice was mild when he said, "You, my friend, don't like needles. Next time, you need to tell the person drawing your blood that. As you saw, there are things they can do to help, but not everyone knows you well enough to gauge the situation properly." Hardison nodded, as a dark blush crept up his face. Eliot dropped him a wink to soften his words, and Nate squeezed his shoulder.

While Master Yu was doing the same tests on Hardison's blood that he had done on Eliot's, Eliot looked at Nate, and Nate spoke up.

"So you've been exposed to nerve gas. What does that mean?"

"It means when I get my hands on Conrad and Zilgrim, I'm gonna break 'em in half."

"It means," said Master Yu, "that he was exposed to a poison that is attacking the central nervous system of his body. The more a person is exposed, the more it builds up in that person's system. It causes tremors, headache, nausea and related symptoms, sweats, shortness of breath, and even death, if a person is exposed to enough of it. From what I can determine, it was only released into the cells for about a day before he got out of there, but they released a lot, so he's had a moderate exposure. It is still possible that we can reverse most, if not all, of the symptoms, if we begin treating it right away, which we will do as soon as I finish this."

"Nate, if you would like for me to go back to my place while the treatment is going on, I don't mind. It won't be very pleasant for any of us."

Nate almost looked hurt, and Eliot noted to himself that Master Yu might not have been far off when he said they needed to do this. For him.

"Like it's been pleasant for you to have to clean us up when we are hurt. We're in this together, Eliot. If you are truly more comfortable at your place, because of that part of your brain that doesn't allow you to feel safe sometimes, then do what you need to do, but if you are doing it to spare us, please don't. We can handle it, and we want to be here for you the same way you are always here for us."

Truth be told, Eliot thought he would be more comfortable at his own place, simply because he would feel as though he was in a fishbowl here, with people popping in and out to check on him all the time, but he would never say that now that he understood how much it meant to them to be able to have him close by. He guessed this was part of what it meant to be a little more than a team, and as much as he was trying not to admit it to himself, it was kind of nice. He didn't let what he was thinking show on his face, though, and his voice was gruff when he said, "All right. Let's get this show on the road. How does your newest blood sample look, Master?"

Master Yu smiled and said, "Hardison, your blood doesn't show any signs of exposure. Congratulations. Perhaps, you could help your boss here track down some of the other veterans and bring them back here for blood tests. We need to do that as quickly as possible, before they expose others, and so we can see how widespread this thing is."

"Right away."


	5. Chapter 5

The girls decided to go one direction, while the boys went the other, knowing they could round up all the veterans in the study more easily that way. After they left, Eliot took out his cell phone and texted his friend, and then stretched out on the bunk and closed his eyes. Master Yu started the IV, and then lit the candles and turned off the lights, except for the small, stained glass wolf lamp that Eliot had sitting on the desk. Master Yu started some chant-like music in the background, hoping it would help Eliot to relax.

When his phone beeped, Eliot opened his eyes and used his free hand to retrieve it from his pocket. He read the text message, and then said, with a long yawn, "My friend is at the door to the apartment. Will you let him in?"

"Yes." Master Yu disappeared for a moment, turning off the music as he left, and reappeared with a really tall man, who was carrying a bag. Yu then disappeared back into the living room, closing the door softly behind him.

"Well, Spencer, it looks like you've gotten yourself into a mess this time."

"Looks like it, Vance. Thanks for coming." He offered the hand with no wires, and they shook.

Colonel Vance laid the small bag he carried on the desk, and said, "The drug in there will reduce most of the effects of the gas on the body, at least somewhat. I should warn you, it's a hallucinogenic, though. I hear it gives people some pretty wild dreams. Tell him to wait a couple of hours before administering, to be sure you don't throw a funny reaction to either of the other two drugs first." He paused and looked directly at Spencer. "I'll be wanting to know how you came in contact with organophosphates, in a civilian setting."

"CIA was involved. Dustmen."

"What?"

"I can't tell you any more than that, Vance. Get me everything you can on a Mister Conrad, CIA, and my team will take him down. He's got enough rank to rate heli-service."

"I'll see what I can find out, but I wish you'd let me help with this."

"I can't risk him catching wind of your involvement. Need you as a secret weapon, for later, if necessary. And I can't let you take the heat for something I plan to do when I am better. I'll owe you a favor for the information, though."

"All right. I can live with that," Vance said. What he didn't say was that he would find out what he could, and help from behind the scenes as much as possible. Spencer had intimated on the phone that it involved veterans, and anybody that hurt veterans the way he suspected this man hurt them, was bad news for all soldiers, and needed to be stopped.

"Goodbye, my brother. Get well, because I'll be collecting that favor."

"Count on it."

"I'll text you the information I find."

"No. Nothing electronic. CIA, remember. Oral or hand delivered only."

"Got it. Call you when I have it."

"Thanks, Vance. Now go on, get out of here."

When Vance left, Eliot closed his eyes again. The Diazepam in the IV was forcing him to almost sleep, though he had enough of the stimulant still left in his system to counteract it somewhat. He tried to relax, and lose himself in the shadows, when he heard the door open. Opening one eye, he confirmed that Master Yu had returned, and spoke up. "My friend said that the medicine in that bag on the desk will counteract most of the effects of the nerve gas, but we're supposed to wait a couple of hours before you give it to me, to be sure I don't have a bad reaction to either of the other two."

"All right." Both of them heard the apartment door open, and then they heard a number of voices. Master Yu said, "No doubt your friends will want to visit again. I will let them come one at a time, but that stimulant will be out of your system soon, and the diazepam will probably make you want to sleep. Sleep when you need to do so, even if there is someone else in the room. Ring this bell if you need something before someone comes in." He placed the bell on the small table right next to the bed.

He thought he heard a soft "thank you' as he slipped out and closed the door.

(0o0)

Hardison walked in first, looking a bit tentative, as if he wasn't sure Eliot really wanted to be bothered right now, least of all by him.

"Well, come on in. I ain't gonna bite ya. You need to drink the rest of your cranberry juice, and another one, too. It's in the fridge."

When he heard those words, Hardison walked all the way in and over to the refrigerator, where he rummaged around until he found the opened bottle of cranberry juice. Twisting it open, he brought it over to the little table, and sat down in the chair next to the bed.

"How are you feeling?" Eliot continued.

"I should be asking you that question."

"So answer me, and then I'll answer you."

"I'm all right. A little stiff, but nothing compared to what you are facing. Thank you for doing the blood test."

"Yeah. I'm just glad I didn't expose you to it. Hot shower'll probably help the stiffness. How do you feel about what happened on this job?"

"A little embarrassed," the hacker admitted.

"Why?"

"I tried to tell Nate you can't fake cool. I must have done something wrong because they got my CIA file, and then when Zilgrim told me to put the hood on, I did, and they took me down to that room in the library, and I got my ass handed to me. All I could think of, when they started hitting and kicking me was covering up my vital organs. I wanted to fight back, but I couldn't. You would have fought back. So would Nate. Even Parker. And probably Sophie. All I kept thinking about was how disappointed you would be in me." He continued babbling almost incoherently a while longer.

"Hardison," Eliot ordered, cutting through the chatter. "Look at me." The young hacker looked up and their eyes met. Eliot softened his voice and spoke again. "I need to tell you something."

Hardison didn't speak, but he gazed at Eliot steadily, waiting for him to continue.

"There's nothing to be embarrassed about. You didn't do anything wrong. The interrogator told me when I was interrogating him—they got your file because they were able to get my fingerprint off of a tazer. You are listed as one of my known associates. I wasn't as careful as I should have been. I'm sorry. As for the hood and covering your vital organs, those are both instincts, ingrained into humans over millennia, for self preservation. As for me, I am not disappointed in you. I am proud of you. Nate and I are telling you all the time that you can't do the things we do, and that's true, but we can't do the things you do either. The team only needs one hitter, and I'm not ready to give up that role yet, but where would we be without your laptop and Lucille, and your ability to make us new identities, to book us last minute transportation, and to do all the other things you do? We don't say thank you enough because most of us really can't get our minds around how you do it, or how much is involved, but the truth of the truth is that the team couldn't survive without you, either. Don't ever doubt that."

"You don't understand. You don't do things that are embarrassing."

Eliot barked a laugh and said, "Yes, I do. I'm just a little better at hiding them than you are. I'll tell you a little secret—I'm about to do something really embarrassing. That drug on the desk there, it's a hallucinogen, which means once Master Yu gives it to me, I'll be seeing all kinds of things, and they very well might be things that make me scream and kick my feet, and so forth. In fact, you don't think I find the prospect of all of this embarrassing—making you all watch this side of me? I wasn't lying to Nate when I told him it wasn't going to be pleasant. I especially don't want Parker or Sophie to have to see it, but I agreed to do it here, so that's not really an option any longer."

Hardison jumped, startled, as the door opened, to Parker standing there. "Hardison, are you gonna hog Eliot all night?"


	6. Chapter 6

Hardison walked back into Nate's living room, contemplating what Eliot had said, and wondering if there was a way to protect them all from being listed as one another's known associates. Deciding that there probably wasn't, but resolving to research it further, he settled down on Nate's sofa, and opened his laptop again. Master Yu was at the bar downstairs, which had been closed in anticipation of his needing to use it, with almost all of the veterans from the study, and Nate and Sophie sat at the dining room table.

"How's Eliot?" Sophie asked.

"He's all right. I hate to see him like this, How's Master Yu doing with the others?"

"I don't know. He said he was coming back to check on Eliot when he was finished, so I'm guessing we'll find out then."

They sat in silence for another ten or fifteen minutes, and then Nate looked up when he heard a voice.

"Nate! Our boy would like to see you next," Parker said, quietly, sitting down next to Hardison.

Nate rose and walked into the sick room. Eliot had his eyes closed when he got there, and he stood at the door, trying to determine if he was sleeping.

"Nate. Did you track down all of the other veterans?"

"Yes. They're all downstairs in the bar with Master Yu. We don't know anything else yet, though. How are you feeling?" He walked forward, and stood next to the bed.

"Oh, you know—it's just a little nerve gas. Nothing major."

Nate gave a half hearted laugh. "No, nothing major. I'd like to see what you consider major."

"You sure about that?"

"Listen, Eliot, I wanted to apologize."

"We did what was necessary."

"You could have died, and I should have foreseen that this could have happened."

"We'll talk about it later. The meds are making me sleepy, and I need to talk to you."

"What did you want to talk about?"

"Two things. Nate, this is gonna get bad. As bad as any of you have ever seen. Worse, even."

"We can handle it."

"I don't—"

"We can handle it," Nate interrupted.

"I don't want the girls to see it."

"All right. I'll see what I can do." How Eliot expected him to keep the girls from seeing it, he didn't know. "What else did you want to talk about?"

"I'm gonna have to go after Conrad. We're on his radar, and if we don't do anything about this, he'll think he's won, and none of you will be safe."

"You just concentrate on getting better."

"Nate, you're not listening. You don't understand."

"You can't do anything as long as you are laid up. Concentrate on getting better and then we'll talk about it, and make a plan."

"Nate, you're not hearing—" his eyes dropped closed and he didn't continue. Nate sat with him for a few minutes longer, and then rose and left the room.

When Nate walked back into the living room, Sophie rose to go and visit Eliot.

"He's asleep," Nate said. "You can sit with him if you like, but he said the meds were making him sleepy."

"I won't wake him. I just want to sit with him for a few minutes. He gave much of himself on this one, Nate."

"Agreed." He smiled slightly as she disappeared past him, and into the room where Eliot was sleeping.

While she was inside with Eliot, Master Yu came back upstairs, carrying a tray with a dozen or so vials of blood. He walked straight through the apartment and into the room where Eliot was sleeping, and then came out again five minutes later, empty handed, with Sophie in tow. They all gathered on the furniture in the living room, and looked expectantly at Master Yu.

"The organophosphates seem to have been localized to the one cell. None of the others showed any exposure."

"I see. Can you tell us what Eliot is facing?"

"When I go back in there, I'll draw some blood to see how the two medicines he's been on for the past few hours are working. Depending on the results, there's one other drug I will start to give him. He's had a moderate exposure, so it will take a while for the effects of the gas to be eradicated. I think we're looking at a week or a little longer, and there's no guarantee that all of the effects will go away. A few could be permanent. We'll do what we can. Please excuse me."

With that, he rose and walked back into Eliot's room, closing the door behind him.

(0o0)

 _A cold wind whipped through the trees of the jungle. In the distance, there was the_ pop, pop, pop  _of machine gun fire, and the squeal of ammunition as it flew through the air. Occasionally, the air was punctuated with the cries of someone who had been hit. Eliot perched on the highest branch that would hold his weight, and tuned out all of the background noise, as his focus sharpened to pinpoint accuracy through the scope of the rifle he held. He saw his target walking through the trees further up the trail, and knew that he would have a clear shot in less than a minute. His finger moved to the trigger, as time slowed down, and people began to move like single frames on a movie wheel. The head was the most efficient for a kill shot, and he was efficient in everything he did. He never fired more than one shot. He didn't need to do so. If he couldn't kill with one, he needed to get out of the business and start doing something else. Multiple shots meant more chances that innocents were hurt, and that was unacceptable. Yes, he killed people. People he had a reason to kill. People he was paid to kill. Sometimes, he killed those people who saw his face or tried to kill his friends. His finger tightened just a bit more on the trigger at that thought. He killed without conscience or remorse. These were bad men, who did bad things, and they deserved to die._

_A few seconds later, the target cleared the trees, but he still was not close enough. Just a little bit closer. His finger tightened just a hair. Closer. Closer. There. He squeezed the trigger. As the bullet flew away from the end of his rifle, the target suddenly changed. His target, the man he had seen so clearly through the scope on his rifle, changed before his eyes into an older woman, with a baby strapped on her back. He knew he should be climbing down, getting out before anyone started looking for where the bullet came from, but he couldn't wrench his eyes away, and so watched as it slammed into her. He heard screaming, from far away, and felt hands on him, though how they had managed to climb the tree without him hearing them, he didn't know. No matter. He slammed his fist over his shoulder, and felt it make contact._

_The screaming didn't stop, and though the hands let go for a moment, they came back again, and this time he heard someone calling his name. "Eliot. Eliot. Eliot!" He tried to open his eyes, but they were so heavy. "Eliot." There it was again, that voice. Calling him. The scene around him disappeared, and he was engulfed in darkness._

Eliot thrashed around on the cot so fiercely that Master Yu feared he would turn it over. He started calling to the screaming, thrashing man, trying to wake him up. He kept quietly saying his friend's name, over and over, his hands on the man's shoulders, until ever so slowly, the thrashing slowed, then stopped, and one of those startling blue eyes opened. The other one followed, but for a few moments, there was no recognition in them.

"Eliot?" Nate asked, and Master Yu wondered when he had come in.

"Nate?" Slowly those blue eyes, so full of confusion, found the mastermind standing at the foot of his bunk, and focused in. "It was a dream, Eliot. You're safe now."

His eyes roamed the room until he found Master Yu, standing next to the sink. "Did I hit you?"

"Yes, but it was an accident, and I shouldn't have touched you. I knew better, but thought it might comfort you—help you wake up. I'll know better next time."

Eliot shook his head. "No chances. Restrain me. I don't want to hurt anybody, especially the people who are trying to help me through all of this."

"Are you sure?"

"No choice. If we have another week or ten days of this, I can't afford to take the chance that I will do real damage to one or both of you. Restrain me."


	7. Chapter 7

Five days had passed. The restraints seemed to be making the hallucinations worse, and as a result, there were fewer periods of lucidity. Nate could only imagine what those hallucinations were, considering what little he knew of the hitter's past. The screaming, thrashing fits were longer, and there was less time between each one. One thing was certain, Eliot's voice would be shot all to hell when he finally came back to himself. It was also harder and harder to wake Eliot up. And it was heartbreaking. Nate wanted to honor Eliot's wishes—if he didn't want the girls to see this side of himself, Nate could certainly understand that. He certainly wasn't planning to take another job while they were down a hitter, so he gave the rest of the team the week off, telling them he would call them if Eliot was better sooner than that. Still, they all acted as though it was business as usual, and the only conclusion he could reach was that they wanted to be there for Eliot, and to support one another. They each went to sit with Eliot at least once a day, to give Master Yu a break. Whatever the fallout from that, they'd deal with it when things were closer to normal.

Once, Nate caught Parker standing at the door to the room that Eliot was in, and his voice came out harsher than he meant when he snapped, "Parker, come away from there."

"Why?" she asked petulantly.

"Eliot doesn't want us to see him like this. He's trying to protect us."

"How is this protecting us? I can hear him screaming, Nate. I'd feel better if I could see that he was all right."

Nate didn't really have an answer for that, so he just shrugged and nodded. "Don't get too close. He's restrained, but he might hurt you accidentally, and then he'd never forgive himself."

"I'll be careful."

Parker walked up to the bed, and sat down in the chair, nodding to Master Yu that he could leave for a few minutes. She looked down at Eliot to find him twitching, as he thrashed against the restraints and screamed. His wrists were bruised from testing his bonds.

"Oh, Sparky," she said, speaking in a low voice and ever so carefully smoothing the sweat drenched hair on his forehead.

_She smoothed the hair from his brow, and he looked into her brown eyes, which were deep and unreadable, inviting him to lose himself in their depths. She laughed as she straddled him, thrilled at their forbidden tryst in the grass hut, in a jungle on the Cambodian border, half a world away from where either of them belonged. She was his nurse, more by necessity than training, and he was a patient, newly pronounced on the mend. They both knew it was wrong, but that was, somehow, what made it feel so right. The world, their world, in particular, had gone crazy, and they were simply themselves—the only thing they could be—the only thing that made sense. A man and a woman in a war zone, too far from home. It wasn't love, they both knew that—no, it was more a response to everything they'd lost. A response to the fear, to the violence that surrounded them, and probably most of all a response to the need to feel human in a place where they seemed to be the only living things for miles. A decidedly physical response, to be sure, but a response._

_Her laughter was a balm to his soul, and he wanted to crawl inside it, and pull it around him, like a child pulls his favorite blanket around his ears as he sleeps to ward off the evil creatures of the night. Her fingertips were on fire as they traced small patterns down his chest, and she gently kissed his forehead, where she had smoothed his hair away just moments before._

" _Anne? Annie? What are you doing here?" Something in the far reaches of his mind told him she had died there, in that hut in Cambodia, but it was too far away to grasp, and anyway, she was right here, draped across his chest and looking into his eyes, a jaunty smile on her face._

_She pressed her lips to his, and he deepened the kiss, and it seemed they stayed that way for an eternity, kissing, hardly daring to breathe, eyes open because of the reassurance that brought, that this was real, and they were real and here and in this moment, happy. A moment later, she stiffened, and a strange look crossed her face as she slid off of him, and ever so slowly, crumpled to the ground. Her look of shock was hidden only by the fact that she was facedown, and he sat up, looking for her, fearing the worst, but not knowing what had happened. His eyes finally found her still form, facedown, the hole in her back from a large caliber weapon, he thought, in a manner that was strangely detached. It was then that he discovered the bullet had gone clean through her, and lodged in his hip. He knew someone would be coming in soon, and weakness like a gunshot wound made him vulnerable. He needed to hide, to find a way out, but somehow, he couldn't bring himself to care._

" _Oh, Annie," he said, and then just sat, staring at her, as silent tears ran down his cheeks._

Eliot had grown quiet when Parker touched his forehead, and he had stopped thrashing around. She was starting to think that she had helped him, until she heard him say a girl's name, and she had never heard him sound so hopeful. A moment later, when tears started sliding down his cheeks, she sensed that he was in a far worse place than the screaming had taken him, and her heart broke for him, and all she wanted to do in that moment was run away. Somehow, she felt she had caused this, and she didn't know how to make it better.

"I'm so sorry, Sparky," she whispered, and then rose, and fairly bolted from the room.

When she stepped back into Nate's living room, all three of the other team members could tell that something was wrong, but she refused to talk about it, saying it was between her and Eliot, and they would talk when he woke up. She quickly gathered her belongings and walked out without another word. Hardison tried to follow, but by the time he made it to the door, she was nowhere to be found. Thinking she might be on the roof, Sophie went up there, but she was back ten minutes later, wondering where on earth the little thief could have gone so quickly. Calls to her cell phone went unanswered, and she ditched or destroyed whatever tracking devices Hardison was currently using to try to track her. She was simply gone.


	8. Chapter 8

For the three days since Parker left, the periods of screaming and thrashing had been fewer, and they had slowly grown shorter and further apart. Finally, he grew quiet for a full day, and Master Yu was confident he would wake soon. The silence, after the screaming, felt strange, and the rest of the team felt the need to be sure Eliot was all right, so they took turns sitting with him. Master Yu wasn't eager to leave him either, and so he and Nate sat together.

An hour later, Nate saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and looked up to see Master Yu moving to the side of Eliot's bunk. Eliot tried to sit up, and Master Yu put out a hand to stop him. He briefly examined the hitter, and drew another blood sample. Afterwards, he removed the restraints and helped Eliot sit up.

"How are you feeling, my friend?"

Eliot tried to answer, but nothing more than a whisper came out of his mouth. Handing him a cup, Yu said, "Don't try to talk. Your voice will likely be in pretty bad shape for a few days."

Eliot took several sips of water, and tried again. His voice was raspy, but he managed to say, "Why?"

"What do you remember?"

He shook his head. Eliot Spencer kept his own counsel on certain matters. After a moment, he looked at Master Yu. "I need to get cleaned up."

"You may feel some of the effects of this for a few weeks yet, and I want you to take it easy for a few days. Other than that, I think you are well enough for me to leave you on your own now. Call me if you need me. If I don't hear from you before, I'll expect to see you in the gym next week."

"Definitely. Thank you, Master. I owe you one."

Nate went to see Master Yu out, and when he returned, Eliot was no longer on the bunk. A bit puzzled, Nate started to walk back out into the living room, and through the apartment, until he heard the water running in the shower.

A few minutes later, Eliot walked out into the main part of Nate's apartment, bringing the bed linens with him. As he came through, he said, "I cleaned up the store room, Nate." He started the washer, and came back into the living room, where he was instantly surrounded by Sophie, Hardison, and Nate. "Where's Parker?" he asked.

Nate looked uncomfortable. "She was visiting you, and something happened. She wouldn't tell me what it was. She left. We haven't been able to find her."

"Damn it, Nate. When are you going to learn I have a reason for everything I say? I told you I didn't want the girls to see this. Have you tried to track her?"

"She destroyed or ditched all of the tracking devices I had for her, and she's turned off her phone. She's in the wind, man," Hardison said, looking unhappy.

Eliot rose and moved toward the door.

"Where are you going? Master Yu said you needed to take it easy."

"I need some fresh air. I'll be back." Without another word, he stalked out the front door, closing it behind him.

(0o0)

Eliot did his best thinking when he was doing something physical. Since martial arts were out for the time being, he decided that a visit to the stable where he boarded his horse was in order. He knew he was going to have to go after Conrad, and he needed to think through the best way to do that. One did not just go straight up against the CIA.

The beauty of horses in a pasture never ceased to amaze him. He walked to the gate and whistled, and a chestnut mare came trotting up to the fence. Taking an apple out of his pocket, he held it flat in his palm, and smiled as the velvet of her nose tickled his hand. Placing his boot on the lower rail of the fence, he swung the other leg over to the other side, and then stepped down to the ground. A moment later, he mounted the horse, bare-backed, and was riding across the pasture toward one of the riding trails. It should be safe enough to make some plans in the middle of the woods.

Stopping for a moment, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, and sent a quick text message, before he lost service, and then took off down the trail. Two hours later, he was riding through a neighboring pasture, toward a different barn. As soon as he got there, hands took his Lady and began brushing her down, while he walked over to an old beat up pickup parked on the grass next to the boundary fence to the farmer's pasture, and opened the passenger door and climbed in.

"I'm assuming you chose this one because there are no electronics that can be tracked in a truck this old. Did you sweep it for attached tracking devices before you came?"

"Of course. So what's the plan?"

"You have to ask, Vance? I'm going after Conrad. That bastard tried to kill me by releasing nerve gas in my cell. On a civilian college campus. Whether the attack was intended just for me or for everyone in those cells, I can't not respond to this. He's putting innocent people in danger, besides the fact that he'll think he can do whatever he wants with me…and with the people on my team. The next little "accident" may not be aimed at me, and they are less equipped to deal with it."

"I agree—you have to respond." He handed Eliot an envelope. "Let me help with this. God knows, you've helped me enough when I needed it."

"I want your help. I want to keep the team out of this. The less they know, the better. It's a two man job. You and me. Go in, give him a few good reasons never to bother us again, and get out." Eliot's face was hard, and he had a wolfish grin—a grin Vance had seen before. Right before the other man unleashed the calculating, ruthless assassin inside himself. "And if that fails, blow his ass up."

"Should we call in some backup for this one—just in case it goes south?"

"No. The more people who know, the better the chance he'll catch wind of what we're planning. I'm sure he's expecting me to do something, but I'd rather make sure he doesn't know what until it is happening."

"So, I'm guessing I should call my wife and tell her I won't be home for dinner."

"Something like that. Conrad's schedule?"

"In the envelope."

"Good." They made one stop, to a storage building on the outskirts of town, where Eliot moved aside a patch of well concealed false wall and withdrew a long, leather bag with handles. He placed in on a nearby table, and immediately unzipped it to make sure it was all still intact, or maybe he just checked it from force of habit. It was there, and just as deadly as ever. He resisted the urge to pat the rifle that had stood him in such good stead before, withdrew two boxes of ammo and some explosives, and placed them in the bag, on top of the rifle, before zipping the bag back up, and shouldering it, moving quickly back toward the truck.

They would camp out tonight, like they had done so many times before, and tomorrow, the fun would begin. Eliot thought briefly about Parker as he built the camp fire, wondering where she was and making a mental note to talk to her once he tracked her down. And he  _would_  track her down. It was just a matter of time.

Vance knew that Eliot was still recovering from what was done to him, so he volunteered to take the first watch, agreeing to wake Eliot in 3 hours, if his 90 minute instincts didn't kick in before then. Within minutes, Eliot, who was still fighting somewhat the medications in his system, was asleep within minutes.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Vance used his military connections to find out where Conrad would be at various times over the next few days. He knew Eliot didn't want anyone too involved, for fear that Conrad would catch wind of their questions, but the man didn't know what kind of loyalty he inspired among their mutual military contacts. These were men whom they both trusted implicitly, and men who would die before selling out anyone else. They were also men who still owed Eliot Spencer a few favors. Any one of them would have used the skills they possessed to deliver Conrad into their hands, if that had been the request, but Vance knew that Eliot also wanted to keep their contacts out of this for the safety of the contacts as much as for any other reason. So, they would go to Conrad. He looked over to where he knew the other man was hidden in the underbrush, and thought about what he had been through over the past two weeks. He had sounded rough yesterday, when they met, but Eliot Spencer was not a man to either give up or give in, and his voice had gotten consistently better after an afternoon of drinking bottle after bottle of water from the sink in the stable.

According to the schedule he had obtained from a contact who worked closely with the CIA, Conrad was supposed to be in this field they were hidden in at any moment, carrying out a secret meeting with another of his protégés. Vance was beginning to wonder if his informant had been mistaken when he saw a figure move out from the cover of the trees and the underbrush, and stand, rather nervously he thought, in the middle of the clearing.

A moment later, he heard the sound of chopper blades just above the tree-line. This clearing was just large enough for the pilot to set the chopper down, and as he did so, small trees bent backwards, away from the violent wind created by the chopper blades. Grass lay flat and loose soil was caught and thrown into the air, and out, away from where it had been. Crouched to avoid the blades, Conrad climbed out of the chopper, his bodyguards behind him, and stood facing the young man before him. Vance couldn't hear what they were saying, and was in no position to take out either of the two bodyguards. He hoped Eliot knew what he was doing, and as soon as he had that thought one of the men crumpled to the ground, completely silently, to lay on top of the pilot Eliot had pulled out of his seat mere moments before. Half a second later, and the second guard lay jumbled up with the first.

Taking that as his cue, Vance stepped out from his position in the trees, and made short work of the kid to whom Conrad was talking a second before. A look of surprise crossed the older man's face, and he was about to demand to know how they had found him and what was going on, when Eliot spun him around and punched him hard, squarely connecting with his jaw and snapping his head back.

The man clearly hadn't seen hard combat; he was no weakling, but he crumpled easily enough under the single fisted assault.

"That was for trying to kill me with the nerve gas."

"Oh. You figured that out, did you?"

Eliot punched him again. "I did."

"You just made one mistake."

"Oh? What's that?"

"I wasn't trying to kill you. If I was, I promise you, you'd be dead. No. You are much more useful to me as a weapon against your team. The nerve gas just made it easier. I am not going to tell you just what kind of weapon you are. It will be far more interesting for you to figure that out on your own, in the middle of every day, normal situations. When it happens, you can blame Nate Ford for getting my attention, and also for potentially getting your team killed." When he heard those words, Eliot finished the job his fist had started a moment before, and Conrad's eyes rolled back in his head and he slid to the ground.

Vance so wanted to shoot the bastard, but he knew if he did so, there would be no hope of getting him to tell them what he had done to Eliot, or if he was bluffing. So, he contented himself with using zip ties to tie the man's wrists and ankles together, and depositing him on the pile with his buddies. Eliot made short work of permanently disabling the helicopter, and then there was nothing to do but wait for their captives to wake up.

Vance and Eliot looked at one another, and whole volumes of knowledge and ideas known only to themselves passed between them, as if riding on an electrical current. Finally, Eliot broke the silence.

"Vance—"he broke off and rubbed his eyes. He was still tired, and he hated what that stuff was doing to him. "I have to know if what Conrad said is true." Vance nodded. He knew this. Eliot continued, "If it is, I'm a danger to the team, until I figure out how to undo it. I can't ask you to be a part of this."

"So what? You expect me to just walk away and leave you to handle this situation by yourself? Not a chance in Hell."

Eliot met the other man's gaze and held it. "I may have to do some things that won't be, shall we say, officially sanctioned, to find the answers I need. That could turn out to be a career ender for you. I don't want to be the person who costs you your career."

"Listen carefully, Spencer. I'm only going to say this once," he gazed steadily at Eliot, until he was sure he had the other man's attention."We've worked together for a long time. Neither of us has clean hands. When we joined the service, we took an oath to defend the Constitution against ALL enemies, foreign and domestic. Don't you think a man like Conrad is an enemy to the Constitution? He uses his power to cover up illicit acts against innocent citizens and then kills or tries to kill to cover his tracks. Besides that, they're vets, Spencer. Men who made the same oath we did, who paid with good years of their lives to protect this country. I take that personally. Some things are more important than a career and pension—like brotherhood."

"I can't let him go, or we'll be looking over our shoulders for the rest of our lives, and he'll plan an attack we'll never see coming. He has the resources of the CIA at his disposal, and it's hard to fight that." He paused for a moment, and then spoke again. "If you won't walk away, come over here and help me with him." 


	10. Chapter 10

Conrad woke to a pounding headache and a bright light in his face. He groaned as he moved his head to look around him, and found himself secured to a chair inside the circle of light, and unable to move more than an inch in any direction. Most everything outside that circle was darkness and shadows. He heard the sound of metal scraping metal, and swallowed hard as he saw Eliot Spencer leaning against a pole next to his chair, sharpening his knife with a whetstone.

"Where's your friend?"

"He's around. You have other things to worry about." Eliot's thoughts traveled to what was, even now, happening at the bar. If everything went to plan, of course, but with Vance and Eliot, it usually did.

_Vance had gotten the address of the building from Eliot, and now he sat in his black SUV, two blocks down the street, and called in a bomb threat to the local police precinct from an untraceable cell phone. He joined the police as they answered the call, and went into the building dressed in plain clothes, and masquerading as an explosives expert from the FBI. He led a fast and thorough search of the building, and when they finally found the bomb, he couldn't help but admire the person who set it, and their choice of location, at least a little. It was in the elevator shaft, which, though not wholly original, made it a pain in the ass to find and remove. It was also one of the more difficult bomb he had ever had to disarm, but finally, it was done. The sweep had continued while they were working to disarm the bomb, and he resumed leading the team searching. They swept the whole building completely three times, and finally, Vance pronounced himself satisfied. Vance reasoned that Eliot's team would be safer inside than out, so he lifted the evacuation, allowing everyone back inside, and then posted guards at the doors with orders to identify anyone going in or out as someone who lived there. For now, the bar was closed. When Vance was sure the threat was neutralized, and Eliot's team was safe, though he didn't know them, he headed back to Eliot._

Eliot smiled slightly as his focus shifted back to the present. A moment later, Spencer spoke, "I'll make this simple for you, Conrad. You can sign this confession, in which you will admit to everything you've done, you will tell me what you did to me, you will step away from the CIA and turn yourself in to the police, and maybe I won't carve you like a Thanksgiving turkey. Should you choose not to cooperate, rest assured I know many ways to encourage your cooperation," and on those last words, his voice was dangerous.

"You're a dangerous man, Eliot Spencer, but right now, you are in no position to make threats. If I don't report in to my associates within the next 30 minutes, they are under orders to blow up McRory's bar, and the building above it. While that is happening, another team will simultaneously be traveling here, where they are under orders to shoot anyone who is around when they arrive. So it appears we are at a stalemate."

Eliot smiled a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and said, "Stalemate? Hardly." His eyes traveled up to above the other side of Conrad's chair, and Conrad couldn't help it—he followed the man's gaze. There was a glass bottle he hadn't noticed before hanging there. He swallowed hard.

"In case you're curious, that's a hypnotic drug I acquired from a friend. With it, I can make you say anything I want you to say to anyone. They won't even realize you've been drugged. I've picked up many skills during my time as a soldier, and even more in the time after. There are many, varied ways I can torture you or even kill you if it comes to that. It would be far better for you to cooperate with me."

Conrad didn't say anything, and Eliot put his knife away and began preparing his medical equipment. When he saw the needle, Conrad said, "All right. You win. Untie me and I will do what you ask."

Eliot took out Conrad's cell phone, of which he had apparently relieved the other man when he tied him up. "No, you will do as I ask while tied up, and if you make a good show of it, I'll consider releasing you. Report to your team. If you try to play games, I'll kill you."

Conrad's throat went dry as he told Eliot which number to dial, knowing that that, in and of itself, was dangerous, but not really having much choice, presently. As he waited for a member of his team to answer, he glanced down, only to see Eliot's knife at his throat. He swallowed hard again. When the voice on the other end answered, he faltered, and felt the tip of a knife cutting into his throat. With effort, he got himself under control, and called off his team. Eliot hung up the phone before he had a chance to say more. Holding the confession before the bound man, he watched as Conrad signed it, knowing he wouldn't be released otherwise.

Eliot, the man who knew what to do in every situation, found himself facing a quandary. He couldn't call the police without getting himself and possibly the team arrested. He couldn't turn Conrad over to Vance without endangering him, and very likely ending his military career. He couldn't kill Conrad without putting the team in a situation where they were always looking over their shoulders. None of those options were good ones. If he didn't release Conrad, or if he killed him, he might never know what the man had done to him. That option was the worst of all. He made the decision to do the only thing he saw that he really could do—find out what he could from Conrad, and then give him every reason to decide the Leverage team wasn't worth his time. Eliot started working with the plastic tubing hanging from the glass bottle overhead, straightening out kinks and twists, making the sure the needle was properly attached.

He had bent down beside Conrad with the alcohol swab that would clean the site of the insertion, when he heard a clanking sound behind him. The heavy metal door of the old, abandoned storage building they were in slammed open and a voice behind them said, "Eliot Spencer. I seem to have found something you lost. Let him go."

Ignoring the voice, Eliot concentrated on what he was about to do, and had the needle poised over Conrad's arm, when he heard the unmistakable sound of a weapon being cocked behind him. "Do it, or I'll shoot."

Very slowly, Eliot turned his head. He suppressed a gasp when he saw that the stranger, obviously one of Conrad's men, had Parker. She looked angry that he had been able to catch her. He did not allow any of his surprise to show on his face.

"Shoot her. Save me the trouble. She sold us out." His heart nearly broke when he saw the look on her face, but his hard expression didn't change. She wouldn't look at him. The tension Eliot felt in his shoulders relaxed a fraction when he saw that his words had the desired effect on the gunman. Instead of shooting her, the stranger pushed her toward Eliot hard. She couldn't keep her balance or control the forward momentum, and she hit the wall hard, letting out a stilted scream as a jagged piece of metal plating from the wall dug into her leg and sliced it deep, from knee to ankle. Out of instinct, Eliot moved toward her, knowing she might have a head injury or worse, as hard as she hit.

All he wanted to do was get to her and see if she was okay, and speak the words that would make things right between them again, but he kept his movement nonchalant, professional. The stranger pointed the gun at both of them, and circled them to get to Conrad, careful to keep the weapon out of reach. Eliot had determined that Parker's injury wasn't life threatening. She would need stitches, but she would survive. Now, the problem was how to get them both out without Conrad deciding to shoot one or both of them. Eliot's head was pounding, and he was shaking. If he was honest with himself, and Eliot usually was, he had to admit that this was probably not anyone's definition of taking it easy. A moment later, Conrad was free. He looked to Eliot, gloating.

"You couldn't kill me because then you wouldn't ever know what I had done to you. I don't have that problem."

"No, your problem is me. Come after me or my team again, and I will chop you into little pieces and drop you from your helicopter into the Amazon River, and let the piranhas make short work of you. Tell me what you did to me before I decide you aren't going to tell me and there's really no reason not to do exactly what I just said."

"I could shoot you right now, and then you wouldn't have to worry about what I did, but I won't. Your own death would mean too little to you. Besides, I think I'd like to watch what's going to happen."

He nodded at the man standing next to him, and the stranger moved the gun slightly. A shot rang out, and Parker slumped, holding her side. Eliot let out a feral growl, and sprinted toward the man holding the gun. Another shot rang out and hit him, but that didn't stop him from disarming the man and proceeding to pound him into the pavement. Out of his peripheral vision, he noticed that Conrad was no longer standing next to the man whose arms and legs he was now tying together.

At that moment, Parker groaned and he turned to go to her, but his vision went blurry again, and his heart was racing, and his whole body was shaking. He sank to his knees, but he forced himself up and over to her. He felt a hand on his shoulder and a familiar voice spoke quietly in his ear.

"I've got her, brother. Can you walk?"  _Vance_. Eliot nodded.

Vance scooped Parker up in his arms, and headed for the door. Both Conrad and his man were tied up, and the police were on the way. Eliot had left Conrad's confession in his front pocket. Eliot slid the heavy door open, through which Vance carried Parker, who was still refusing to look at Eliot. He really couldn't blame her after what he had said, but he would explain when they were safe.

They were halfway out the door when he heard Conrad's voice behind him.  _And all hell broke loose._

 


	11. Chapter 11

Neither Vance nor Eliot heard exactly what Conrad said, but the words apparently connected somewhere in Eliot's subconscious mind. With a roar, he lunged forward and began striking out blindly at anything in his path. Under the best of circumstances, Eliot was dangerous, and that was when he was exercising an iron-clad control over his temper. With the words spoken by Conrad, that control had been taken away, and there was something wild about Eliot. Wilder than Vance had ever seen in the man. He had to get the situation back under control, and soon.

"Eliot," he called out, hoping to see some recognition in the man's eyes, but there was nothing there except cold menace. It was as though Eliot was locked in his own world, inside a waking dream, unable to recognize anyone or anything familiar. "Eliot!" he said again, and still he got no response.

Vance set Parker down gently against the wall, and whispered to her to be still and quiet. Then, he turned to engage Eliot before he killed someone or got himself killed. He was surprised to see that Eliot was headed back towards Conrad and his man. Afraid that Eliot would be shot or otherwise injured, Vance followed, but all he could do was watch as Eliot beat first one and then the other of the unarmed, restrained men. Vance knew he had to figure a way to get them all out of there. The police were on their way and it wouldn't be good for them to be found there. Slipping up behind Eliot, Vance clamped down on the pressure points in the neck and shoulder area, and Eliot slumped to the ground. Not knowing how long his friend would be unconscious, the rules of prudence called for Vance to immobilize him, as he was a danger to himself and others. Taking off his belt, Vance quickly secured Eliot's hands behind his back, tightly enough that the other man, when he came to, would not be able to break the bonds.

Quickly checking the restrained men over, Vance learned that Conrad's man was dead. Conrad was alive, but barely. On the bright side, if Conrad was smart, he wouldn't come after Eliot or his team after this, knowing he had been well and truly bested today. The weapon he had tried to create had backfired on him, and been used against him. Going back to Parker, Vance scooped her up and took her out to his SUV, where he laid her out across the back seats, and went back for Eliot. By the time he got back, Eliot was starting to come around, and Vance leaned over him, looking down from above, and when those blue eyes focused in on his with recognition, he spoke quietly.  
"Listen carefully, Spencer. I tied your hands because Conrad planted something in your mind that makes you dangerous to anything in your path. Don't fight it. It's for everyone's protection. We're going to get you some help. Can you walk?"

Still not fully understanding what had happened, Eliot trusted the face and the voice. When asked if he could walk, he nodded and rose with a grunt to his feet. They made their way to Vance's SUV, with Vance walking just a little behind Eliot in case he started to fall. Vance helped Eliot climb into the passenger seat without his hands, and then buckled him in, and ran around to his own driver's seat. As they put some distance between themselves and the old abandoned storage building on the farm, Vance saw the squad cars in the rearview mirror. He kept going, planning if he was stopped to show them his badge and tell them that the passengers in the car were people he had apprehended. It turned out not to matter, as the squad cars seemed not to be paying any attention to them.

All of the stress of the last day and a half took its toll on Eliot, and he finally gave in and passed out again as Vance drove. Vance glanced in his rearview mirror to see how his other patient was doing, and frightened blue eyes, filled with sadness, met his.

"I'm a friend of Eliot's. I won't hurt you. I'm taking you back to your headquarters so we can get you both patched up."

"No. I can't go back there. Not if what Eliot said is truly what they think of me."

"Eliot didn't mean what he said. You know that, right?"

"Then why did he say it?"

"He said it to keep you safe. Eliot knew if he showed any feelings toward you at all, Conrad would kill you right in front of him, just out of spite. It was safer for him to pretend you meant nothing to him."

"How do you know that for sure?"

"I've known Eliot for a long time. I know him well. Don't take my word for it. Ask him yourself when he wakes up. He'll probably try to talk to you about it if you don't anyway." He saw a grimace of pain cross Parker's face and added, "We'll get that leg dressed and check out any other injuries after we get you someplace safe."

(0o0)

Hardison was seated on the sofa, working on his computer. Nate and Sophie were seated at the dining room table, working a crossword puzzle in the newspaper and talking, when there was a knock on the door. Hardison, being closest, rose and opened it, and then froze, staring at the tableau before him. There on the doorstep to Nate's apartment, stood a very tall man with Parker in his arms, ignoring the fact that she was struggling and trying to get down, standing next to another man covered in blood with his hands behind his back, whom Hardison figured out, after a moment, was Eliot. Moving up behind the hacker to see what had him frozen in place, Nate said, "Hardison, let them in, so he can put Parker down, and they can explain what is going on."

Hardison stepped aside, and Vance strode into the room, half dragging Eliot behind him. Hardison swallowed reflexively a couple of times and started to say something, when Vance cut him off with a glare. "Colonel Vance. Eliot is my friend, and both he and the young lady are injured. I'll explain everything after I get them patched up."

Nate found his voice first. "There's a makeshift treatment room right through that door. Eliot keeps it well-stocked," he said, indicating the door in question. Without another word, Vance and the two people with him disappeared through that door, and Nate heard the lock click.

Vance put Parker down on the bunk, and Eliot sat on one of the visitor chairs still in the room. Vance sat on the stool next to Parker's bunk. Parker seemed to realize at this point that Vance was not someone she trusted, though he was Eliot's friend, and while she had allowed him to carry her to safety, her willingness to allow a stranger to touch her ended there. She fought him as he tried to pull her pant leg up, and slapped at his hands when he tried to clean the wound.

"If you don't stop, I'm going to have to tie your hands," Vance said, frustrated.

"She doesn't like to be touched. Especially not by strangers." He looked at Parker. "Stop it, Parker. You can let him treat you, or you can let me, but one of us is going to fix that leg. Otherwise, it'll get infected, and a one-legged thief isn't any good to anybody." Vance undid the belt that bound Eliot's hands, since Parker clearly didn't plan to let Vance touch her. Eliot quickly did a neuro check, and determined there was no worry of a concussion. He checked for internal bleeding and breathed a sigh of relief when he found none.

"Why do you care? You wanted to let Conrad shoot me."

Explaining things to Parker could sometimes be interesting, but in this case, he knew he had to try.

"I'm sorry for what I said, sweetheart". I had to act like I didn't care what happened to you. A man like Conrad will exploit any weakness, and friends or family count as part of that. If I had shown any type of care for you, Conrad would have seen that, and killed you in front of me to try to take advantage of me. " While he spoke, he gently cut her pant leg off, and started inspecting the wound. Speaking softly to her, as if he were speaking to a spooked filly, he said, "Cut's not too deep. Didn't hit the artery and it doesn't go to the bone. Still needs stitches, though."

She shook her head, and Eliot said, "No choice." While he readied the supplies he needed, he asked Parker, "How did they catch you, anyway?"

An angry look crossed her face, and she said, "After I left Nate's, I was still watching the team. I wanted to make sure everybody was okay, and I wanted to talk to you when you woke up. I saw you leave and planned to follow you and talk to you wherever we ended up, but they apparently had someone watching me, too. They followed me until I reached the clearing in the woods, then they shot me with a tranquilizer dart. When I woke up, they beat me up pretty good, but only in places that didn't show, and then brought me to that building where you and Vance were with Conrad."

"What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? Exactly how is any of this your fault, darlin'?" She looked sad.

"I thought you said what you did because you were mad at me for what I did."

_What on earth could she have done? There was only one way to find out._

"What did you do?"

"When you were being treated for the nerve gas poisoning, I wanted to come and see you. Nate told me that you didn't want us to see you that way, and that you were trying to protect us, but you were screaming, and I wanted to see for myself that you were all right. He told me to be careful not to touch you because you might hurt me by accident."

"He was right. You know I wouldn't ever hurt you for anything in the world, don't you, Parker? Not if I could help it, anyway."

"When I saw you, you were shaking, and sweating, and your hair was stuck to your forehead, and I know how you don't like it in your face, so I just wanted to move it off for you. You got really quiet when I did that; you stopped screaming and everything. I thought I had helped you at first. Then you said a girl's name, and you sounded so sad, I felt like I did something wrong, but I didn't know what I had done and didn't know how to fix it. I knew Nate would be angry with me if I told him I touched you after he told me not to do it, and I didn't know what else to do, so I just left." She hung her head and studied her hands.

"Parker, look at me." He waited until she did to continue, "I'm sorry you had to watch all of this. What happened wasn't your fault. You haven't done anything wrong. I didn't want you to see me because I was trying to protect you, and in all honesty, because this was embarrassing to me, and I didn't want you or Sophie to see me like that." He knew Parker wouldn't settle for anything less than the absolute truth, so he said, "When you smoothed my hair for me, it triggered a memory of another time when I was sick, with another friend who did the same thing. Someone killed her, trying to make me suffer, and I re-lived that memory during the treatment. That's why I was sad."

"We aren't china dolls, Eliot."

"I know, but I was raised that there are some things ladies shouldn't see, or shouldn't have to see, anyway, and this is one of them. It's more about me being weak than about me thinking you are too weak to see it. I don't like to show that kind of weakness to anyone. In my line of work, any type of weakness can be exploited, and can mean a death sentence to the person in whom it is seen. Do you understand?"

Parker nodded. Then she caught a glimpse of her leg. There was a row of neat, even stitches. Eliot had cleaned her wound, given her a local, and sewn it up in the course of his conversation with her. Now, he was filling another syringe while he talked to her. One had already been filled and laid on the table in front of him. He raised his eyes to hers, and caught her gaze, and she was unable to look away.

"This is a tetanus shot. That aluminum plating on the wall in the storage building was rusty, and there's no telling what all it might have had on it. This will sting a little bit going in, but it is necessary." He pointed to the one in front of him. "That one is morphine. It will take care of the pain."

She shook her head. "Uh uh. No way." She tried to struggle, but Eliot put a stop to that by the simple expedient of having Vance hold her.

"If I really wanted to do so, I could stick you in any one of about ten different places. You couldn't get away from me. It will work faster and hurt a lot less in the arm, so cooperate, yeah?"

Parker didn't answer, but she stopped struggling, and looked pointedly at Eliot. That was its own kind of answer. He had given her both injections a moment later, and when she fell asleep, he looked at Vance.

"Did you hear what Conrad said?"

"No. I tried, but I didn't hear it."

"It isn't safe for me to be around the team until we know what the triggers are." Eliot looked thoughtful. "Any suggestions?"

"I have one, but you're going to hate it." Vance looked squarely at Eliot.

"What is it?"

"You need Doc Carrington."

"Are you sure there isn't another way?"

"None that I can think of, and definitely none as quick or as surefire."

"You're right. I do hate it. Call her."

 


	12. Chapter 12

Eliot hadn't really felt up to fighting Parker to get her to allow him to treat the gunshot wound in her side, and she didn't seem in immediate danger of bleeding out, so now that she was asleep, he eased the hem of her shirt upwards a bit and was relieved to see that the bullet had only grazed her. Working as gently as possible, he cleaned and bandaged the wound while she was sleeping, and then settled back in his chair, rapidly losing feeling in the arm and hand affected by his own gunshot wound, now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Vance knew basic first aid, but didn't have the medical skills that Eliot had, so Eliot would wait for Doc Carrington to treat his own gunshot wound, provided she was able to come fairly quickly.

Vance moved back into the living room of Nate's apartment, taking Eliot, hands bound once again, with him, and leaving a sleeping Parker on the cot in the treatment room. Hardison, Nate, and Sophie gathered in the living room when they saw the two men come in.

"Eliot? What's going on?"

"This is my friend, Colonel Vance." He looked at Nate. "Nate, do you remember me telling you that I would have to go after Conrad?"

"Yes. I told you when you got better we would come up with a plan. I've been thinking about it, but haven't come up with a way to get to him yet."

"Don't bother. I knew I had to go after him before he tried something. We had his attention, and he wasn't going to take what we did to Zilgrim lying down. I asked the Colonel here to be sure you were safe from a distance, while I let Conrad know that it would be a very bad idea to come after us." He met Nate's glare with a steely look of his own. "I couldn't wait until I was better, as you suggested. You weren't understanding the urgency of the situation. I knew Conrad was planning to hit us soon—he as much as said so. Parker followed me when I left, and Conrad's men captured her and brought her to where he was, which also happened to be where she was going, but they didn't know that. They thought they could use her to bargain with me. Vance helped me rescue her. Parker and I both got shot in the process, and she cut her leg pretty badly.

"In my dealings with Conrad, I learned more about what he did to me during the job. Apparently, in addition to the nerve gas, he planted one or more commands in my mind in order to make me a weapon he could try to use against you all. We weren't able to learn what the triggers are, so as of now, any dealings I have with you until we've figured out the problem will take place with my hands tied. I am a liability to you right now, and I won't be responsible for hurting any of you."

"How do we learn what these triggers are?" Nate asked. "And the better question, what do we do about it?"

Eliot looked uncomfortable, and chose his words carefully. "I've asked Vance to call a mutual acquaintance to help. She's the best in her field. When she comes, Vance and I will take her back to my place, and I will undergo her treatment. I'll be in touch when we are finished."

"You don't plan to stay here?"

"That didn't work out so well last time, did it?" Nate looked at the hitter, only to find Eliot's gaze boring into him. There was no reproach there, only a statement of fact. "Besides, if Conrad is targeting me, being here will draw him here, and while I am down, y'all are virtually unprotected."

"If you think that is best, okay. We'll just have to live with it."

(0o0)

Doctor Catherine Carrington was due anytime. Eliot grew more and more nervous and jumpy as he waited for her. Sophie and Nate both noticed, but neither said anything. If Eliot was worried, that was enough to worry them as well. Yet, Eliot must trust her or he wouldn't allow her to help him, and he especially wouldn't bring her to the team's headquarters, of all places.

Nate was pulled back to the present by a knock on the door. Colonel Vance rose and answered it, to find a very pretty, petite woman, who looked probably half her real age, standing there looking up at him.

"Colonel Vance, nice to see you again," she said crisply, moving past him into the room, without waiting for an invitation. Catherine Carrington was a woman with an air of being totally and completely in charge of whatever situation with which she found herself involved. Her deep Emerald green eyes missed nothing, and as she took in the room, her gaze fell on Eliot, leaning against the wall.

"Commander. How long has it been? Ten years? Twelve? Looks like you have a gunshot wound that needs care. Since any of the many doctors with whom the two of you are acquainted could handle that, I trust, sometime soon, you will tell me the other reason I am here. Well, come on. Let's get started."

Eliot rose with some effort, and Vance met him in the center of the living room floor, followed by Nate.

"Gentlemen. I don't work with an audience, and I am sure the Commander would appreciate not having one either. Sit back down, and I will come out to speak with you when we are finished. She disappeared through the door that Eliot indicated, leaving Vance and Nate out with the rest of the team. Sophie spoke first.

"I wonder why Eliot was so nervous waiting for her to come," she asked thoughtfully.

"Spencer and Doc have a love/hate relationship," Vance supplied with a half smile. "He loves her and trusts her, and he respects what she does, so long as she's not doing it to him. But now she is, and he's not quite sure what to do with that."

"So, she's a love interest?" Sophie asked quietly.

"No. Well, in a manner of speaking, yes. There's nothing romantic there. She's more than a friend, and a little less than family, if I had to hazard a guess."

"What is it exactly that she does?" Nate asked.

"She puts people in contact with themselves—makes them face their innermost conflicts and their basest desires. When we served together, it was her job to question the POW's in the unit, along with making sure the soldiers assigned to her unit kept their heads screwed on straight. She is the very best at what she does, which is why I suggested Eliot ask her for help, but Eliot is a very private man, so having to ask for the kind of help she gives bothers him more than most other things might. She knows that. Whether she uses it to get what she needs or not, well, that remains to be seen."

(0o0)

Kitty Carrington sat silently, watching Eliot as he settled in the chair, next to the bunk in which Parker was sleeping, and tried to get comfortable. After a while, she said, "What's going on, Eliot?"

"What makes you think anything is 'going on'?" Eliot growled.

"Colonel Vance called me out here for a purpose. I know it has to do with you, and since I walked in the door, you've been as nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. I can find out why from him, but I'd rather hear it from you, and I thought you would want some privacy while we sorted this out."

"Speaking of privacy—I was hoping we could go back to my place to do whatever it is you need me to do."

"Might be possible. I won't know until you tell me what this is all about."

"I can't share too many details, but I'll give you the basics. During the course of one of my missions, I had cause to be exposed to organophosphates, and I have reason to believe that I had some commands implanted in my mind at the same time. I don't know what they might be nor what the triggers are. I need to find them and neutralize them, if possible."

"Tell me why you'd like to do it elsewhere."

"I'm a liability to the team. The person who did this is after me, and if my presence draws him here, then the people I protect won't be protected while I am out of commission."

"If you leave them, they will still be unprotected, and what's to say that he will not come after them to try to get to you that way. My suggestion would be to allow your friends to stand in the gap for you during this time. Do it here, and let us protect them for you." Eliot had to concede that she had a point, but he wasn't quite ready to say so. Instead he stared at the wall over her shoulder. A moment later, he spoke again, almost inaudibly.

"Thank you for coming, Kat."

She nodded, knowing that was as close as he would come to acknowledging that he needed her help. "Let's start with the gunshot wound."

 


	13. Chapter 13

Fortunately, the bullet had gone through and through, so there was no concern about retrieving it. He had sustained some extra damage from forcing his arm and hand to serve him after the injury, but soon Doc had started an IV, sewn up the damage, and strapped his arm to his chest with a brace. Now came the part that he was dreading.

She gazed at him intently for a moment, and then asked, "We've done this before, Eliot, and you know you can trust me. We've been through too much together…seen too much together for you to think otherwise. So, why are you so nervous?"

He wanted to tell her, and he knew she would find out once he was under anyway, and thinking about it, he knew he would rather put it in context for her than have her see it out of context, but still it was hard for him to say the words to her. He stared at his hands, and felt her gaze boring into him, never leaving him. He knew she expected an answer. An answer he wasn't exactly prepared to give her. But an answer he owed her nonetheless. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a bottle and two shot glasses. Uncapping the lid, she poured a finger of liquid into each glass, and handed one of the glasses to Eliot. Sipping hers, she gazed at him over the rim of her glass, waiting for what he would tell her.

"Kat," he said quietly, "when we did this before, I was little more than a kid. Lot of water under the bridge since then. I'm not sure I want you to see the man I've become."

The usually confident man's tone was slightly insecure, and there was something pretty damn close to fear in his eyes.  _Interesting,_  she thought, filing that information away for later.

"I see. You're afraid I'll see some of your deep, dark secrets, and I won't be able to handle what I know of you, so I'll what? I'll just run away—is that it?" She gave a mirthless laugh. "I've spent most of my adult life traipsing through the dark places of the human psyche. I think I can handle it. Those dark places aren't really ugly, Eliot. They're just human."

He couldn't bring himself to speak, but he nodded and tossed back his drink, then set the empty glass over on the little table next to his chair, acknowledging the truth of what she said, and the lie it was to him. His dark places weren't just human, they were dark and ugly. There would be no redemption for Eliot Spencer, he was too far past any hope of that, but he didn't say any of that to his friend.

"Close your eyes, Eliot." She bound his hands to the chair, knowing that if they found the trigger word before she realized what it was, he could be a danger to her. She rose and moved over behind him, injecting something into the second IV port as she did so, reclined his chair so that he was lying down, and gently started massaging his head. He felt himself starting to relax, as her voice washed over him. They had discovered long ago that he was susceptible to hypnosis, and Sophie had reminded him of that with the neuro-linguistic programming. NLP wasn't that far from hypnosis, and he slipped under easily. After a moment, she started probing for the trigger.

(0o0)

A non-descript black van was parked outside an equally non-descript house in one of the older, more spread out suburbs of Boston. There was no activity around the outside of the house, and except for the van parked outside, there were no signs of life on the property. It was the perfect place to hide, if this were a normal situation, involving normal people. The people and the situation in this case were far from normal, though. A figure dressed in camouflage crouched in one of the top branches of the decades old oak tree in the front yard, and the leaves covered his position so well that there was no way he could be seen through the branches, so long as he didn't move. Holding the binoculars to his eyes, he peered through the picture window at the front of the home, right into the living room. No one had thought to draw the curtains. Suspicions confirmed, he slowly fished his cell phone out of his pocket, careful not to move too much or too fast, and sent a text message, and then resumed watching, not moving at all.

It could have been hours later, for all he knew in that tree, but his internal time sense told him that only a few minutes passed before another rather plain car pulled into the driveway and came to a stop. The figure in the tree watched as a man got out of the car, and walked up the driveway to the front door, a small messenger bag on his shoulder. He didn't ring the doorbell, which was a bit curious, but instead knocked several times, in a distinctive pattern, before the door finally opened, seemingly of its own volition, and he stepped inside. The door swung closed behind him. An hour later, the front door opened again, and the same man walked back out to the car and left quickly. The figure in the tree found it prudent to make mental note of the goings and comings to and from the house, just in case it became important.

(0o0)

Doc's foray into Eliot's mind had not been entirely successful so far. He was cooperating, far more easily than she had expected, actually, but truth be told, it was dead hard to find a trigger word if one didn't know where to look. They had been through some pretty dark places looking for it, too, She had listened in mild shock as he described the jobs he had taken after his official stint with the government, working for both PMC's and then for various clients as a retrieval specialist. She was currently listening to him describe his work with Damien Moreau.

She was beginning to understand, as she listened to him, why he said he didn't really want to show her the man he had become. She hoped he didn't think she was that shallow, or that she would judge him without knowing the whole story. Whatever happened in his past, it was clear they would still need to have a very serious talk when he was awake again.

When Eliot finished speaking, she didn't have another question for him immediately, and so they sat in silence for a few minutes, as she tried to decide which direction she wanted to take it from there.

"Noooo!. Stop. Don't. Please don't." Doc's attention was drawn to the girl on the bed. Catching the flailing fists that flew everywhere, she stood watching the young blonde sleep, wondering what had happened to her that was causing her nightmares. A moment later, the young girl stopped crying out, and her eyes opened to blue slits. A look of confusion crossed her face. She obviously expected to wake up either alone or with someone familiar to her in the room with her.

"Who are you?" Parker tried to pull her hands away, and found herself caught in an iron grip. When Parker was awake enough not to flail around, Doc let her hands go, and looked her in the eye.

"Doctor Catherine Carrington. I'm a friend of Colonel Vance and Eliot. You may call me Kitty or you may call me Doc. How are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," Parker said, not willing to admit to a stranger that she was still in pain, and equally unwilling to allow yet another stranger to do anything for her. She grimaced, and her body convulsed in pain for a moment, while she tried to breathe through it.

"Your words say you're fine. Your body says otherwise. I think you need some more pain meds."

She shook her head, and then said, "I just want to go home and go to bed. I'll be fine in the morning."

"You are in no condition to go anywhere. We can do this the easy way or the hard way, and you can believe me when I tell you that I am every bit as competent as Eliot. I promised him I'd take care of the team while he was out of commission and that's what I am going to do. It'll be easier for both of us if you don't fight me."

Parker had no intention of submitting to Doc's will without a fight, so she started flailing again, and trying to get up. Doc pinned Parker's legs underneath her, and enveloped her in something like a bear hug, before injecting her with the pain medication. She held the girl until her eyelids grew heavy, and then helped her stretch out again.

Turning back to Eliot, she saw that he had fallen asleep in his recliner, and she pulled a blanket over each of her patients. She knew that she and Eliot would have more work to do tomorrow, since the search for the trigger had so far been unsuccessful, but it was late, and she wasn't willing to wake the hitter up to continue tonight. She turned off all the lights except for the small desk lamp, and then left the room, closing the door behind her.


	14. Chapter 14

Colonel Vance saw her first when she stepped out of the side room and closed the door. He rose and met her as she walked over to join them. Before he had a chance to say anything, she shook her head, and then walked up next to him to address the team. "Both of our patients are sleeping. We weren't entirely successful finding the trigger today, but we'll try again. I would like to be close by so I can monitor him in case he wakes up."

"You are welcome to camp out on the sofa, or in the guest room."

"The sofa is fine. Vance and I have some business, so I'm going to walk him out."

"All right. I'll lock everything except the front door, and I'll ask you to lock that when you come back in."

"Thank you, Mr. Ford."

Vance offered her his arm and they walked out. When they were in the relative safety that Doc's vehicle afforded, she looked squarely at the Colonel.

"I have to ask you, Vance—what is this all about?"

He shook his head, and looked her in the eyes. Finally, he said, "Eliot wants to keep his friends out of this as much as possible."

Her eyes grew hard. "Damn it, Vance. Don't patronize me. If Eliot had wanted to keep his friends out of this, he shouldn't have called me for help. Besides, I know there's a contingency plan. You always have one. And so does he. There's a reason we were the best field team on five continents."

Vance flashed her a half smile. "Why didn't you ask Eliot?"

"I did ask him, and he told me his part, or at least part of his part of it. He told me that he ran afoul of a CIA agent on his last mission who implanted some commands in his brain trying to make him a weapon to be used against the team. His file told me there was some nerve gas involved. What I want to know now is what we're going to do about it?"

"I don't know what Eliot's plans are."

"I swear to God if you keep stringing me along, I'll find a way to ground you pending full physical and psychological evaluation. Now spill."

Vance smiled again, only this time it was a full smile. They held a rapid, whispered conversation. Ten minutes later, she thanked Vance, they both got out of the car and she locked it, and then she walked back inside. Parker and Eliot were both still sleeping when she checked on them, and she noticed that Eliot's IV bag was empty so she removed it, and untied his hands, so he could move in his sleep. She turned and started back out to the living room when a hand reached out and grasped her arm. She turned back around to find steady blue eyes boring into her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Okay. Did you find it?"

She shook her head, and then said, "We will. I have another idea of something to try tomorrow."

"Are you up to trying it now? I need to get back on my feet and complete this mission as quickly as possible." He glanced over at the cot. "How's Parker?"

"She'll be fine, but she needs sleep to help the healing process. I'd rather not wake her."

"Is the team still out there?"

"They've gone to bed. It's late."

"We could do it there."

Putting a finger to her lips, she nodded, then turned and walked out to the larger living room, and sat down in one of the chairs. Eliot followed her and sat down on the sofa. She looked him in the eyes.

"What I want to try now is to help you re-live the time when the commands might have been implanted, and see if you can tell me what the trigger words are. The tricky part of this is making sure they don't affect you before we can neutralize them. Ready?"

Eliot nodded, stretched out, and closed his eyes.

Speaking quietly, she put him under and then said, "I want you to go back to the time you encountered organophosphate poisoning at the college. See the scene, and tell me what happened. Nothing you see will affect you. You are perfectly safe. Nothing that anyone says will have any effect on you at all. Describe the scene."

"Sitting on bunk in cell. Really cold. Loud music. Mist through vents."  _That was the nerve gas._

"Were there any words under the music? Listen carefully, and hear it."

_Now that she mentioned it, it seemed as though there were words underneath, but he couldn't make out what they were. He strained to hear them._

"Turn off the music in your mind, and hear the words."

Eliot spouted off a list of twenty or twenty five words which made very little sense, and even less sense together. Doc had no idea why anyone would use those words as triggers, but they had to take it seriously. No choice. She hurriedly wrote them down.

"What are you supposed to do when you hear one of these words?"

"Different tasks for different words."  _Well that told her what she needed to know, didn't it? And yet it didn't really tell her much of anything at all._ She was going to need Vance's help for the next part of what they had to do.

She brought Eliot back to consciousness, and then rose and went to the refrigerator and took out a bottle of water. Twisting off the cap, she handed it to Eliot, and then sat back down in her chair.

Eliot downed half the bottle of water, then screwed the cap back on and set it on the table, and met her eyes with a hint of a question on his face. She almost smiled.

"We need to talk."

'That sounds serious."

"You might say that."

"Come on, Doc. Don't play games with me."

"I don't play games, Eliot. You know me better than that."

"Well, then, Kat, why don't you tell me what we need to talk about?"

"What do you remember from this last session?"

Eliot frowned as he realized that he remembered nothing. "Nothing." Then something else occurred to him. "Wait. Why do I remember what happened when I was hypnotized before but not now?"

"Because I told your mind to remember last time. We did this last one so quickly after you woke that I didn't think of it. My apologies."

Eliot nodded, and studied his hands.

"Eliot?" He looked up at her. "We'll take the next steps tomorrow. I need Vance's help."

"Why?"

"You mentioned about twenty five words that could be the triggers we are looking for, and if what you said was accurate, each of them is attached to separate actions. I need Vance to help make sure we can keep the well-trained soldier in you under control."

Eliot gave a single nod, but didn't say anything. A sort of tension fell between them, as if she wanted to say more, and as though he was afraid she would. Finally, he said, "You want to say something Kat, I can tell. So go ahead and say it."

"All right. I want to know why you didn't want me to see the man you've become, as you say."

"Didn't you see when you hypnotized me?"

"I saw plenty, but I'd like to know why you didn't want me to know."

"I'm not proud of that time in my life. I made some bad decisions. Nothing I do now can change that. You were one of the few people from my past untouched by all of that, and I guess I wanted to keep it that way."

"Are you worried that what I saw would change my opinion of you, Eliot?"

"I wasn't sure. I wouldn't blame you if it did."

"We've been friends for a long time. I'm disappointed that your opinion of me is that low."

Eliot's mouth moved for a moment, but he didn't say anything, and the tension fell between them again. This was one of his oldest friends, and he wanted her to understand.

"Kat, it wasn't that I thought you would judge me. I'll admit, I wasn't sure what you would have to say about it, but it is more that I am embarrassed by that time of my life, and don't want to share it."

"That's understandable. I'll let you make it up to me." 

"How?" 

"I know you have a plan. Let me help." 

"Kat—"

"I know you, Eliot. You can't tell me that there's no plan. You either trust me or you don't."

"All right. We'll talk about it tomorrow. It's late."

 


	15. Chapter 15

Parker woke very early the next morning, and slipped out of Nate's apartment, half expecting Eliot, who was sleeping on the sofa, to wake and stop her. She moved very quietly, and while she wouldn't wake normal people, she had never actually seen Eliot sleep anywhere, and she didn't actually know how soundly he slept. He seemed to have a sixth sense for knowing when people were sharing a room with him, or moving around. She made her way up to the roof, and sat watching the building below for any sign of the rest of the team. She jumped when she heard a quiet voice in her ear, and in her surprise, she lurched forward, and almost went over the side of the building. She felt a steadying hand on her shoulder, which immediately let go once she was safe. She whirled around, came face to face with Doc, and started wondering how she could get off the roof and away from the other woman, short of jumping. Without gear, the drop was a little far, even for her.

Doc Carrington was looking at her appraisingly, and it made her uncomfortable.

"You're up early," Doc said.

"Always," Parker answered, and for some reason, she felt the need to say more, so she added, "I don't sleep much."

"Nightmares will do that."

Parker just stared at her, with a hint of surprise. "How did you know I have nightmares?"

"That was what woke you last night." Seeing the look on Parker's face, she said, "Relax. I have no plans to do anything with that information, though I am available if you would like to talk about them with someone."

Parker shook her head, staring at Doc and scowling. Doc almost laughed at her expression. That made Parker think the other woman was laughing at her, which made her angry, and she half turned away, peering over the side of the building.

"I owe you an apology, you know." Surprised, Parker turned back and looked at her. Doc's expression was sincere.

"I promised Eliot that I would take care of the team while he couldn't, and I always keep my promises. Now, I can see that what I did makes it hard for you to trust me, and I understand why. I am not apologizing for my actions because, like I said, I promised Eliot I would take care of the team, and I suspect he would have done the same thing I did in my place. I am apologizing because my actions led to your distrust of me." Doc chose her words carefully, and decided it wasn't prudent to mention that the reason she knew all of this was because she had done her homework on the team. Instead, she tried a different tack, "I don't expect you to trust me, but I hope we can reach a temporary agreement. We're on the same side in all of this. We both want one thing—to keep Eliot and the rest of your team safe. I realize I can't keep you out of this, and I am not sure I want to do so, but I would like to see us work together toward that end. And I would like to ask a favor of you, though it is more a favor to Eliot."

Parker said nothing, but she didn't take her eyes off of Doc. Slowly, Kitty moved up closer to her and sat almost beside her while they watched the entrance of the building below, waiting to see which of the rest of the team would come out first. Both of them would bet it would be Eliot. As the silence stretched out, into something with a life of its own, Parker finally spoke, "What's this favor?"

Doc nodded and said, "I would ask that you and the rest of the team give Eliot space while we are working. He doesn't want any of you to know about his past, and he is worried that his past will come out during this process. Somewhere inside himself, he sees all of this as weakness, though I am not sure he has admitted that to himself yet, and he is embarrassed to show that weakness in front of you all. If you need to be sure he is all right, I understand that, but if you must check on him, do it from a distance, and don't let him know."

Parker hesitated. She was still really angry at Doc for what she had done, but she was appreciative that the woman had made an effort to apologize. She would deal with her anger later, after they were all safe and the job was finished.

"I can keep the team out of this, up to a point, but when Eliot goes after Conrad, I want to help. That bastard hurt me to try to get to Eliot. I take that personally." Doc nodded, and leaned over toward Parker, and the two held a whispered conversation.

(0o0)

Eliot woke up to find Doc gone. He walked through to the treatment room, where he kept a bag with some extra clothes. Noticing Parker was gone as well, he dressed hurriedly and made his way to the roof, wondering if Doc might have followed her up there. But the roof was empty as well, so he made his way down to the bar and out to the street. He needed to make some arrangements for the next step of his plan. Unlocking the door of the truck, he climbed into the driver's seat, and as he did, the passenger door opened and Doc, who appeared from nowhere, climbed in beside him.

He shot her a look that asked her what exactly she thought she was doing, and reminded her that Eliot wouldn't have let just anyone do this.

"We're going to your place. The one no one else knows about. The team doesn't need to see the next part of this. Vance will meet us there. Then, we are all going to take care of Conrad. Together."

"Kat—I," Eliot started to protest, but she cut him off.

"Just drive."

He did so, and when they reached the freeway, he asked, "So, what should I expect from this next session of yours?"

"You really want to know?"

He shrugged. "Knowing's better than not."

"We'll go through each of the trigger words you gave me, in a safe environment, to see what each one makes you do, and then we'll find a way to shut them down, and get you back to your team as quickly as possible. Now answer a question for me?"

"Sure."

"What do you plan to do about Mister Conrad?"

"How did you find out his name?"

"You seem to forget that we were once on the same field team, and I learned how to find the information I need from the same person you did. And from you."

"Oh, right." He smirked.

A moment later, he turned off the highway, and after a few more turns, they were driving down a tree-lined street in the suburbs. Suddenly her phone rang. She opened it, listened for a few moments, and then said, "find out what you can for me. Yes. Thanks. Call me when you have it." She hung up, as Eliot pulled in to his farmhouse.

(0o0)

Parker knew that Hardison would try to track them when he found out that she and Eliot were gone. If he didn't do it himself, she knew that Nate would ask him to do it. She knew that Eliot had left his phone on Nate's bar, where he knew they would find it. That was his way of telling them not to try to follow him. Of all of them, he needed time away from the team.

If they wanted to track her, she would give them something to track. She knew of eight different tracking devices that Hardison had hidden on her person. She guessed she should be angry, but it didn't really bother her. She could ditch them if she didn't want to be followed, and she knew it was just his way of showing he cared. He didn't like being alone, so he understandably had a hard time understanding that sometimes she just needed to be untraceable.

She knew she had at least an hour before the rest of the team woke, ate breakfast, and got moving. She made several overlapping circuits in the vicinity of Nate's apartment, systematically dropping tracking devices for the team to find. She left one of them in her warehouse, knowing that having to open the door and go inside to find it would slow them down. She was careful to do nothing to lead them to Eliot's place, but Nate was smart, and she knew he might decide to check there anyway, so she devised a plan to lead them away from it. She set each of the tracking devices to go off at different times. That should keep them occupied for a couple of hours, and with luck, it would all be over by then. She had contemplated calling Agent McSweetin of the FBI for help with Conrad, but she was afraid she would end up blowing her own cover and exposing her team, and she was fairly sure Eliot would be mad at her, really, really mad at her, if she led the FBI to his house—a house that even most of the team knew nothing about.

When she was sure all of the devices were gone, she rode the bus across town and got off in the suburbs, two miles from Eliot's farmhouse in the countryside. She had never been there, but she had heard him talk about it, and had drawn a picture in her mind from the information he gave about it. She found a piece of land that matched that picture on the map, and decided to try there first. She knew she was in the right place when she saw Eliot's truck in the gravel driveway. She understood that it was one of the places he went when he wanted to be off the grid for some reason, and having similar desires, she couldn't blame him for that.

Eliot's truck was in the driveway when she pulled in, and remembering her promise to Doc, she didn't get near the house. Instead, she settled in the tall grass of the vacant lot across the street, finding a position where she could watch without being seen. She had a score to settle with Doc, and still didn't completely trust her, but there would be time for all of that later. Right now, the priority was getting her revenge on Conrad. Three years ago, she wouldn't have felt the need for revenge, at least not unless there was money involved. Now she wanted to hurt Conrad because he had hurt Hardison and Eliot, and he had used her to hurt Eliot. She guessed that was one of the ways being on a team had changed her.


	16. Chapter 16

Nate was getting more and more frustrated. He had two team members in the wind, with no way of tracking them. He had come downstairs for breakfast to find Eliot's phone lying on the breakfast bar. He wasn't sure what to make of that. God knows he understood the man's need to be out of pocket at times—understood it and respected it. Under other circumstances, he trusted the hitter to leave for awhile and then come back without a problem, but Eliot hadn't been himself lately. Doc was gone as well, so it was likely that she had taken him somewhere more private, and if he were honest with himself, he could understand why she wouldn't tell them they were going.

What he didn't understand was why Parker was gone, too. He knew Hardison had tracking devices in her shoes and on her person, and as much as he hated to do so, he asked the young hacker to track her. Hardison had done so, and so far, she was leading them on a merry chase, and he wasn't sure whether she was dropping tracking devices right before they reached her location as she found them, or if she was purposely misleading them. If it was the latter, he wasn't sure how he felt about that. They had come up on six of them now, having just cleared the one in her warehouse, and he knew that there were only eight, so he hoped they would find her fairly soon. They had nothing else to go on.

(0o0)

Doc watched as the hyper-vigilant man with her got out of his truck and moved toward the house. She was pleased to see that he visibly relaxed a bit as his mind recognized that he was on his own property—in his own special place. Quickly moving up the walkway, he unlocked the door, and made a circuit through the house, assuring himself that all was as it should be. Doc followed him, her face touched with a hint of amusement.

"What's so funny?" Eliot asked her with a mock glare.

Doc shook her head. "It's just good to see you come home, that's all. I'm glad you have a place like this."

As they moved back into the living room, a black pickup truck turned into the drive, and parked just behind Eliot's. Doc watched through the window as Vance got out and made his way to the door. Eliot flung it open before he could knock, ushering the large man inside.

"Don't get too comfortable," he warned, as Vance looked around him at this place that was very much Eliot's.

"Why?" Doc asked, curious.

"Because if we're gonna do this here, then I want to show you both something." Smiling, he led them through the house and out the back door. Hiking down a trail that ran through the center of the woods, he made an effort to keep the conversation light. His oldest friends laughed at his playful banter and followed him without hesitation through the woods. They walked for about fifteen minutes before she heard the sound of rushing water. After another ten minutes, the dense underbrush opened up into a clearing with a waterfall, and a natural land bridge that ran over the river behind the falls. Doc's breath caught in her throat, and she stood transfixed, staring. Eliot smiled at her reaction.

"That's lovely!" she exclaimed.

"Does it remind you of anything?" Eliot asked, then added, "You might not remember. You were rather out of it at the time, if I recall."

"I remember," Vance said. "It looks a lot like that river in Belgium. Kitty was sick and we were both injured, and we holed up in a cave behind the waterfall there to get away from the foot soldiers. It was really cold, and we couldn't risk a fire. We spent the night huddled together for warmth, drinking bad scotch and whiskey and telling corny jokes. You set my leg, and then kept running out to the waterfall and holding rags under the icy water to make compresses for her forehead, and I was worried you would go into shock."

"We stayed there for two days. By the morning of the third day, Kat's fever broke and we could leave," Eliot said.

"Yes," she agreed, dryly, "and then you went into shock while we were hiking out of there and didn't tell anybody. When you fell out on the trail, Vance and I carried you to a nearby farm's barn. The farmer brought us all the extra blankets he owned, I think."

"Yeah, and you made me drink that nasty tea that tasted like death." He grimaced thinking about it, and then growled, "Hell of a way to treat someone who had just saved your life."

She grinned. "That's what friends are for. Besides, it worked, didn't it?"

He growled something unintelligible, and then fell silent.

After a pregnant pause, she spoke again. "Well, is there a cave? Can we go inside?" she asked, still amused by his reaction to the memory.

Without a word, he started walking up the trail that ran behind the waterfall, and they followed him. He came down the other side, and flattened himself against the stone wall. They followed suit, and together, they inched themselves sideways behind the water at the ground level, and found themselves in a rather large cave. Eliot drew a lighter out of his pocket, and lit the lantern he had sitting in a corner. A golden glow blanketed the room. Moving toward the back of the cave, he hung the lantern on a small branch growing out of the side of the rock wall, and then sat on a rocky outcropping that looked something like a large stone chair.

"I was thinking we could test the triggers here. Once I am sitting in the "seat" part of this rock structure, I can't get out without help, and I am thinking that will be safer than doing it where I can freely leave, on land I know better than you two do." He paused, and looked at Vance, motioning him to pick up the small bag lying in a corner. Vance did so, looking slightly confused. "There's a rope in that bag—carbon fiber, with a steel cable core. You can still restrain me if you feel like I might be a danger to you."

Doc looked at him. "Are you sure? That stone seat is going to get awfully uncomfortable if you sit there for too long, and this could take awhile."

He nodded once, and she changed the subject.

"I brought along some help, too."

"What?"

She held up a syringe, and he shook his head. Before he could speak, she did. "I don't plan to use it unless you want me to do so, or unless it turns out that we have to, but I wanted to give you the choice. If you would rather not remember what happens here, there's no shame in that. It's not easy facing the deep, dark places of your psyche, and you've had to do it too many times in the last two weeks."

"No, Kat. I already told ya—knowin's better than not."

She nodded. "We'll hold off on the rope for now, too, I think."

He slid back in the seat and got as comfortable as possible on the stone chair. It was lined with moss, which helped some. Then, he closed his eyes and waited.

(0o0)

Hardison was walking next to Nate, looking down at his handheld computer screen. Sophie trailed a little behind.

"Okay, Nate, it looks like the signal is right up ahead of us."

Suddenly the signal stopped moving, and Hardison amended what he said to, "Correction. The signal is right here."

Receiving no answer, he looked over at Nate to see him pulling a tracking device out of the inside of a flower pot.

"That's the last tracking device, and there's still no Parker," Sophie said, in frustration. Nate's frustration got the better of him, and he suddenly picked up the tracking device and threw it as hard as he could. It crashed into a piece of cement edging and shattered. Hardison sputtered a bit, picking up the pieces more to keep them out of anyone else's hands than because he was really complaining, but because he was Hardison, he had to gripe a little.

"Do you know what you just broke? Do you know what you broke?"

"We can't do anything more out here. Damn it. We might as well get back to the apartment, and wait for word."

(0o0)

Vance was pacing the mouth of the cave while Doc and Eliot were working. He was close enough to be there if he was needed, but far enough away to afford his friend a little bit of privacy. Still, he could hear almost everything they were saying, but he wouldn't mention it unless Eliot did later. They had just started, and the first few words elicited no reaction. That must mean that they were either words that had been planted for the sake of confusion or they were a message of some kind. Doc made note of each.

"Evil." Eliot began straining to get out of the chair. Vance heard the commotion and hurried over just in case. "That word will no longer make you do anything out of the ordinary." Eliot slowly settled back down, and Doc made a note next to the word.

"Keys." Eliot began fighting harder. Beads of sweat broke out all over his forehead as his back arched and he tried to slide forward in the chair. Vance placed a hand on his shoulder, and it was like someone had set a caged animal free. "You will not feel the compulsion to fight when you hear this word." Doc made a note next to that word as well.

On and on it went, with Doc reading words and making notes based on Eliot's reactions. Finally, she came to the last word on the list.

"Potato." Eliot's rage erupted out of him and covered him like lava from a volcano. He began flailing his arms and practically forced himself out of the stone chair, scraping the sides of his legs and the undersides of his arms as he did so. Vance tried to hold him, but he was fighting too hard. He managed to hold Eliot long enough for Doc to get in there and do her best to remove the command from his mind. Vance wasn't what he was for nothing, and had many of the same skills Eliot had, though they all had their specialties. Not knowing what else to do when Eliot didn't immediately calm down, Vance put him to sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Parker was getting bored, sitting alone in the vacant lot across the street from Eliot's farmhouse. She wasn't used to sitting still for this long, but she wouldn't leave. Not when she thought Eliot might need her. Whether it was the team that showed up or Conrad, she had no doubt that Eliot and his friends could handle the situation, but she owed Conrad some payback, and she wanted to be there to see him get what was coming to him. She had a plan for that, too, in case Eliot's plan fell through.

As Parker stood up to stretch, she saw a car pull into Eliot's driveway. Leaning forward for a closer look, she saw three men in the car, and one of them looked like Conrad. She watched, trying to think of a way to stall Conrad.

Conrad and his men quietly surrounded the house, peering in windows, trying to get a read on the occupants. When they determined that the front part of the house was empty, they slipped inside. Parker had just decided how she could draw them away from the house. Now she had to figure out how to get them out of the house, and that was what she was trying to do when a car pulled into a clearing in the vacant lot, a few dozen yards down the way. A young man got out, with a slight build and dark, curly hair. He started toward the house as well, when Parker launched herself off the ground, and hit him like a runaway freight train, right in the chest.

"Oomph," he grunted, as he went down. He rolled out from under her, was immediately on his feet again, and as she came at him a second time, he was ready for her, and he neatly wrapped both arms around her body and pinned them there. Pushing her up against the nearest thing he found, which was the car he came in, he said roughly, "What's your name?"

Parker didn't answer, and the young man holding her simply pushed on the arm he had twisted up behind her back, and she squealed in pain. "I'm only going to ask you one more time. What's your name?"

"Alice. Alice White."

"What's your business here, Alice White?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"I'm asking you. Answer me before I make you answer." His voice was dangerous.

Parker was wary. She didn't know if this man was more of Conrad's backup or someone they could trust. She answered carefully. "Watching out for a friend."

"Yeah? Seems we have something in common, then. What would your friend's name be?"

Thinking fast, Parker said, "Abernathy. My friend's name is Dr. Abernathy. Yours?"

"I happen to know that no one by the name of Abernathy lives here. You can tell me the truth or I can detain you until I've secured the place. I happen to be a friend of the owner."

Parker was a pretty good judge of character. A life in and out of the foster care system and time on the streets had taught her those skills quickly. The young man seemed genuine.

"You're a friend of Eliot's?"

The man stopped short at that, and stared at her. Wondering if she had said something wrong, she added, "Because I know the owner, too, and his name is Eliot." Suddenly, he released her and stepped back, ready in case she decided to attack him again.

"Relax. We're on the same side. Eliot had me watching the man who just went into the house. When he left to come here, I followed, knowing Eliot might be in danger."

_Oh, sweet mercy. An ally. Maybe._

They settled down to watching the house again, and five minutes later, one of the three men who had gone inside came back out, and it was pretty clear that he was guarding the outside of the house. Parker found herself scoping out places to hide around the house, trying to find a way to sneak up on the guard. When she snapped out of her reverie and looked around again, Eliot's friend was no longer next to her, and a moment later, he was behind the guard, arm around his neck, choking him. The guard slumped to the ground, and using his feet, Eliot's friend hid him behind some bushes.

Without a word, Parker slipped around the side of the house, trying to see where Eliot might be inside, and if he was in danger. In less than a minute, she had made a perimeter sweep of most of the house, and was coming up on the last room in the back of the house, a bedroom or a den by the looks of it. There was one window, on the back wall of the brick house, with wood blinds drawn against the outside. It was the work of a moment to pop the lock and ease the window open by a half inch or so. Moving one slat just slightly, she could see enough to tell that Conrad and his man were tearing the place up, but Eliot was nowhere around. She suddenly had the horrifying thought that Eliot might be lying unconscious somewhere else in the house. That would mean that Conrad had overpowered Doc and Vance as well. _Ugh. She really hated that guy._ That would also mean that they were in over their heads.

Without allowing herself to think too much about what she was doing, she withdrew her phone from her pocket, turned it on (She had turned it off earlier so it couldn't be used to track them), and dialed a number. It rang twice and a voice answered.

"Parker, where are you?"

"No time, Nate. Listen carefully. Eliot needs help and I have an idea of how to get Conrad." She moved a little away so that her new acquaintance couldn't overhear (she was only willing to trust him to a point because she needed his help to pull off what she had planned) and held a rapid, whispered conversation with her boss. She hung up and turned back around to see Eliot's friend standing and staring as the house exploded into flames. After her panic died down a little, she realized she hadn't seen anyone come out of the house, and apparently the young man with her came to the same conclusion at the same time. A look passed between them, and suddenly they understood each other. She started running toward the house, while he ran around to the back. He saw Conrad and his man disappearing into the woods behind the house, and followed.

Parker climbed in the back window, and darted from room to room in the house, dodging strategically placed explosives and det-cord, and checking for unconscious or incapacitated friends. When she was satisfied it was clear, she breathed a sigh of relief, and as the fire reached the det-cord on the floor of the room she was in, she wrenched open the window and threw herself out into the yard. She landed badly on her knee, but she couldn't afford to stop, and she half-ran, half limped a safe distance away. She knew Eliot's friend had gone into the woods after Conrad and his man, so she followed, to lend what help she could. 


	18. Chapter 18

Nate hung up the phone and looked at Sophie and Hardison, who were both looking back at him expectantly.

"Hardison, I think if you try, you'll be able to track Parker's phone now. Everyone meet me at the van. We leave in three minutes.

"Nate-?"

"We'll talk about it on the way. Parker sounded like there was no time to lose."

They all piled into the van, and Hardison started driving, while Nate navigated with the GPS on Hardison's phone.

"According to this, we should be there in about fifteen minutes. Let's try to make it seven."

Hardison didn't respond, but he did press down on the gas pedal harder, and they braced themselves as the van sped up.

(0o0)

Conrad and his man jogged down the path that led through the woods, straight on past the waterfall, and after running for what seemed an eternity, they came out in an open field on the other side. There were green fields as far as the eye could see, and a few lone trees stood out in stark relief. There was no sign of another structure or dwelling, and Conrad stopped, momentarily confused.

When Eliot's friend and Parker reached the clearing with the waterfall, he signaled Parker to check out the waterfall, while he continued following Conrad. He had been watching her, and she moved more quietly through the woods than anyone he had ever seen, and most of the people he knew were trained in stealth, but she was a civilian, and he had a better chance of defending himself against the danger Conrad represented. She watched him disappear down the trail, and then she ran quickly toward the waterfall. She limped-ran up the trail that went over the falls and stopped for a moment, looking around her and deciding where to go next. After a moment, she slipped down the trail and behind the falls. She stopped at the end of the entrance, out of sight of anyone who might be inside and hidden from those on the outside by water. She peered around the stone wall, into the entrance of the cave, careful to be as quiet as possible. Doc, Vance and Eliot were sitting on the stone floor, talking quietly.

Even though she only looked in for a moment, Eliot felt eyes on him, watching him. The vibe he got was that it was someone who wasn't dangerous, but perhaps because of what he had just been through, or maybe because it was just a matter of his personality and training, he was still hyper-aware of her presence.

"Parker! Get in here!"

The little blonde thief slipped just inside and froze, like she wasn't sure exactly what she should do next. Intense blue eyes speared hers, and he said, "Why are you here, Parker?"

"I wanted to check on you, be sure you were okay. But I didn't want to interrupt, and I knew you probably wouldn't want anyone to know what was going on, so I hid in the vacant lot across the street, and I decided to wait for you to come out of the house. Then Conrad showed up, with two men, and a few minutes later, the man you had sitting on him."

Eliot looked confused, and Vance said, "Shelley."

Eliot's eyes and voice were dangerous. "Dammit Vance. I told you I didn't want anyone else involved in this. I had a plan. We'll discuss this later." He looked at Parker. "Where is Shelley?"

"He is following Conrad. They ran out of the house right before it blew up and came out here. He followed them, while I climbed in the bedroom window to look for you. We both thought you were working in there, and that they had overpowered all three of you and were trying to destroy the evidence."

"They'd find that hard to do," Doc said quietly, at the same time that the rest of Parker's statement sunk in to Eliot's brain. "They blew up the house," he said slowly, his voice containing a barely controlled fury, and a hint of disbelief.

Parker nodded, looking sad. "I'm sorry we couldn't stop it."

"This is not your fault, Parker." He rose and moved around behind the great stone seat, where he reached down and picked up a long, leather bag with handles. Speaking to no one in particular, he said, "Shelley will lead them back toward the house. Vance and I will cut them off from behind, and then meet back here. Doc, if you want to help, why don't you set up a field med tent, and be ready to treat any injuries we might encounter. You can start by looking at Parker's knee. She was limping when she walked in here." He gave Parker a stern look. "Cooperate with her, Parker."

"I want to help," Parker started, but Eliot cut her off, leveling his gaze on her, "If this gets messy, I don't want you caught in the crossfire. Stay here with Doc, and let her tend your knee. We'll be back soon."

Without another word, Eliot and Vance walked to the edge of the cave and stood looking out through the streaming water, listening hard at something Parker couldn't hear. A moment later, Shelley ran by, luring Conrad back toward the house, and they ran out together, on either side of the water, and set off behind Conrad and his man.

Doc looked at Parker. "So what do we do now? Eliot wants me to look at your knee."

"It's fine. Eliot can look at it later, if it still hurts. The team will be here any minute, and I need to head them off before they run in to a pissed off Eliot in assassin mode. That won't help his disposition any, and it is more people who could potentially be caught in the crossfire."

"Go. Bring them back here. I'll set up a triage area in case anyone is injured."

With a wicked little grin, Parker darted out of the cave and disappeared. When she was sure she was alone, Doc took out her untraceable cell phone and dialed a number. There was a pause, and then a voice on the other end answered, and she said, "Jack Mitchell please," in a tone that brooked no argument. After another long pause, she spoke again.

"Jack? Kitty Carrington here. That favor I spoke to you about—I need to call it in. How soon? All right. Be careful and take care of yourself. And Jack—thanks."

(0o0)

Parker came out of the woods just about the time the team pulled on to Eliot's street. She tried to intercept them, and lead them back to the cave in the woods, but Nate put a hand on her shoulder.

"Wait," he whispered, staring straight ahead at something behind her.

She turned to see that Shelley had led Conrad to the front yard, and had his service revolver trained on the older man. Conrad turned to run back the other way, only to find himself standing face to face with Eliot's sniper rifle wielded by its deadly owner, and Vance. Eliot caught sight of the team out of his peripheral vision, but he neither acknowledged their presence nor lowered the rifle.

Conrad spoke first. "What do you want?"

"I want you to resign from the CIA and answer for what you have done. I want you to turn yourself in."

"Oh, is that all?" he sneered.

"No," Eliot snapped. "It isn't. I also want you to leave my team alone. Forget you've ever heard of Nate Ford, or any of the rest of the team. I want to be very clear—if you come after me or any member of my team ever again, I will hunt you down and I won't stop until you're dead and everyone associated with you is dead—your family, your men, everyone."

"Well, if it isn't the big, bad Eliot Spencer," Conrad said the words like they were distasteful to him. "Your file makes you seem a lot tougher than you are. I think this team of yours has made you soft. The Eliot Spencer in that file would have shot me immediately and from a distance. Instead, you are ruining your friends' careers by making the back you up."

Eliot cocked the rifle, and drew a bead on his target's forehead. From this distance, the shot would blow Conrad's head clean off. Cleanup would be a bitch in more ways than one, and he hated that Vance would have some cleanup of his own, but then, the man had insisted on being involved.


	19. Chapter 19

Sophie knew that it was necessary for Eliot to hold a gun on Conrad, and if she were honest with herself, she knew that it might even be necessary for Eliot to shoot him, but she couldn't bear the thought that their Eliot, the gentle man who put in so much time and effort toward keeping the team safe, could do such a terrible thing as take another person's life. He had killed before…she knew that…but he wasn't that man anymore, and it frightened her a little bit during the few times she saw glimpses of that man. She couldn't reconcile the ruthless assassin with the man she knew. Trying to stop it wouldn't help, so she ducked her head and looked away. That particular move wasn't lost on Eliot, and he knew he would have to have a rather serious discussion with the grifter later, but he was rather busy at the moment, and it was neither the time nor the place. Turning his full attention back to Conrad, he waited for the man to make any kind of movement. Later, he would blame the fact that he was hyper-focused on Conrad for the reason he didn't see or hear the car that stopped next to Shelley's, or the wiry man who got out and stalked up on the outskirts of the group, In fact, no one noticed him until he spoke.

"Eliot Spencer, put the gun down. Let's discuss this."

Eliot stared at him, searching his face for something he recognized. Eliot wasn't sure he knew the man, but the man seemed to know him. He knew his name, anyway. And his voice was familiar to Eliot, though he couldn't place it. When the hitter spoke, there was no sign of confusion in his voice.

"I won't do that. This man is a menace to ordinary society, not to mention a clear and present danger to the Constitution of the United States of America. I won't stand down for anyone less than his boss's boss."

Jack Mitchell reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet, which he opened to show Eliot an extremely real looking CIA credential.  _Damn it._

Flashing a smile that showed all of his teeth, he said, "Jack Mitchell, Deputy Director, CIA. His boss's boss."

Conrad looked like a five year old on Christmas morning, and said, almost gleefully, "You'd better get that gun out of my face, cowboy."

"Conrad, I'm not sure you know who it is you are dealing with. If Eliot Spencer had a gun pointed at me, I'd be nervous, and I sure as hell wouldn't be opening my mouth."

"I know who he is," Conrad sneered. "I did my homework. He's a two bit, trigger happy vigilante."

"You're outclassed by a factor of a thousand, and if you don't shut up, I might just let him shoot you," Jack said, wondering all the while if he would truly be able to stop Eliot, if the man took a notion to shoot Conrad. Conrad wisely took the hint and fell silent, a bit shocked that his fellow CIA man wasn't automatically on his side.

Turning his attention back to Eliot, Jack said, "Why don't you tell me a story?"

Smiling slightly, thinking he knew where this was going, Eliot said, "What kind of story?"

"I'd like to hear a story about how this man came to be here, in front of a burning house, being held at gunpoint by two sometimes soldiers, while another soldier and some civilians look on. It's an interesting tableau, and I'd bet there's an equally interesting story behind it. Will you put your gun down and tell me that story? I think Mr. Shelley's weapon is enough to be sure our friend doesn't move, for the moment, anyway."

Eliot looked Shelley in the eye, and said, "If he moves an inch, put a bullet through his head."

Shelley nodded, and Eliot slowly lowered his gun. Conrad was starting to take on a pasty white hue to his skin tone.

Seeing that Jack Mitchell was waiting for him to begin, he said, "I was investigating the death of a soldier participating in a sleep trial at a local college, at the request of his daughter. So, to get a look at what was going on inside the study, I volunteered to be a subject of the trial. During the course of my time there, I discovered that the sleep study wasn't really a sleep study at all, but a study in which those in charge were trying to find new ways to break people. They were preying on homeless Veterans, mostly those who had returned with PTSD, and they were deliberately trying to make it flare up."

"How does Conrad figure into all of this?"

"He was protecting the young man leading the study. They were both dustmen. After my client's father died, he had the records pulled and sealed by Federal order."

"I see. If I recall, the young man went to jail, so how did you both end up here?"

"Conrad told me at the end of the job that I was on his radar—that he wouldn't let what I did, to put his young protégé in jail, slide. Then I discovered that he had released an organophosphate in my cell at the college, and I had to undergo treatment for organophosphate poisoning. I knew he would try again for me, and I felt the need to be sure the civilians and the other vets in the area and in the study were safe. I work with a team. He kidnapped one of the members of that team, and tried to use her to get to me. I tracked him down, and rescued her, and she was injured in the process. I also found out when we met face to face that he had," here Eliot paused, considering how much to say, "done some other things to try to make me a weapon to use against my team. Until I knew what he had done, I was a danger, not only to my team, but to the general public as well, so I came here to try to find out what he had done and to neutralize it. This is my home and my property. He came after me, with his man, and they blew up my house, as you can see, and were trying to find me, when my friends found them, and led them out here. As you saw, I followed, to be sure they were contained. Last time I checked, I have the right to defend myself, my friends, and my property."

Conrad found his voice again, and said, "You can't be taking what he says at face value, without even hearing my side of the story!" The CIA operative was furious.

"Conrad, I'm going to say this once. I got a phone call from an old friend advising me of what was going down here. To be fair to you, I did my homework before I came. I know all about Travis Zilgrim and the program, from CIA internal documents. He simply confirmed what I already knew. This is his property. He was well within his rights to shoot you, and he hasn't done it yet. I can't say that I would have been as patient." He looked back at Eliot.

"Would it satisfy you if I handle this matter from here? I can promise you that he will never bother you or your team again."

"How? How can you make that promise?"

"As of right now, Mr. Conrad is burned. His true identity is being leaked to every media outlet in the country, and to every major nation in the world. Every piece of government issued identification, credit cards, housing, everything has been frozen. The CIA has chosen to distance itself from Mr. Conrad's actions, which are illegal, and a Federal summons has been issued. It seems Congress wants to know a bit more about Mr. Conrad's clandestine operations, which are outside the scope of his duties as a CIA operative. As of right now, with your agreement, I will take him into custody and deliver him to another friend of mine, an FBI agent, and he'll be held in Federal custody until his Congressional hearing, at which time, I fully expect that he'll be sentenced as an accomplice to the death of an American citizen, and on several counts of illegal, unauthorized, unsanctioned operations domestically. He's violated about a dozen of our laws. Congress won't let him slide on that."

Eliot was inclined to let the man take Conrad. It was a reasonable solution, and he didn't really want to shoot him. The only problem was knowing what side Mr. Jack Mitchell was actually on. Eliot couldn't be sure he wasn't just playing along until he had his man safely in his custody.

Jack saw the hesitation, and moved over next to him, speaking quietly in his ear. "Eliot, you may not remember me. You would have no reason to do so. I served with your team briefly, in the very beginning. I trained the man who trained you, and helped him choose the team." Eliot glanced at Vance, who nodded slightly. "Understand that I did what I did today, not out of any nostalgia or fondness I feel for the team. I don't work that way. I did what I did because he's breaking the law, and hurting innocent people, and sometimes, that's necessary, but when it isn't, I won't tolerate it."

"So that means, if we ever meet on opposite sides—"

"I'll come down on you then just as hard as I came down on him today."

"As long as we understand each other."

"Did Doc find all the triggers and neutralize them?"

"All but one. We'll have some more work to do on that one."

"She'll get it, if you let her. She's extremely good at what she does, even if you don't really want to do it with her. And give her my best, will you?"

Eliot nodded. "I will."

"I'd better get our prisoners back to where we'll meet up with my FBI buddy and his partner."

"His partner's not a friend?"

"His partner's a dog—a hundred twenty pound Rottweiler called Sarge. That's also his rank."

The moment of levity passed quickly, and he met Eliot's eyes and held them. "Seriously, man, let her help."

"Yeah."

"Good man. Send you a check for damages." He slapped Eliot on the shoulder, turned to Vance and saluted, and made his way back over to the man who was now his prisoner, preparing to take custody of him. Shelley already had the handcuffs around his wrists, and at a word from Vance, Shelley escorted them to the car, still holding Conrad at gunpoint, and apparently decided to make sure they got there safely, climbing in the front passenger seat of the car and buckling himself in.

Vance, Eliot and the team watched them drive away, and then Vance said, "We'd better go see Doc."

"Yeah," Eliot grunted, and then motioned to the rest of the team to follow them as they moved back toward the woods behind what was left of the house. "Come on."

 


	20. Chapter 20

Doc had triage set up in the cave when they got back. Eliot led Parker into the cave and seated her on the stone seat. "Let Doc look at your knee," he growled.

"Why can't you do it?" she asked petulantly.

"Because I'm still a danger to you. You heard me talking to Mitchell, we haven't sorted all of the trigger words yet. Until we do, I don't need to put my hands on anyone on the team."

"Wait, you told Mitchell about the trigger words? That's not the private man I know." Eliot gave her a fierce look.

"No, he asked me if you had found all of them, and advised me to let you help find them. I thought you had told him, and I planned to talk to you about it later. It isn't like you to violate confidentiality rules like that."

"I didn't tell him anything."

"So how did he know?" Doc and Vance and Eliot exchanged a glance, not liking the implications. Then, Doc shook herself and gently pushed up Parker's pants leg. She gently manipulated the knee back and forth, determining it was only bruised, with slightly stretched ligaments. It was the work of a few moments to wrap it with an ace bandage.

Smiling as she pulled Parker's pant leg back down, she took an ice pack out of her bag, snapped it to make the chemical reaction start, and set it on Parker's knee. "Nothing wrong an ice pack and a knee brace won't fix, but you don't need to walk on it too much until you stop by a pharmacy for an aluminum brace." She helped Parker stand up and then turned to Eliot. "Your turn."

Holding up a hand, Eliot turned to Nate and said, "Take the team back to the apartment. I want Vance to go with you, make sure you are all safe. Doc and I will be there as soon as we can, and we'll figure out a new plan."

"Are you sure that's necessary, Eliot?"

"I trust you to plan the jobs. When are you going to trust me to keep you all safe?"

Nate smiled slightly. "I already do. All right. We'll do it your way. Come on, gang." They all filed out silently, too shocked and worried to say anything. They were all loaded into Lucille in almost no time at all, and driving back toward the apartment.

Doc turned to Eliot and motioned to the stone seat.

"No."

"What do you mean, no?"

Conrad knows we were somewhere on this property. If he was planning something, we'd be smarter to do this somewhere else. Are you up to taking a drive?"

"Sure, but to where?"

"The team has a safe house or two that are off the grid. I'm suggesting we go to one of them."

Doc nodded, and when they were safely in Eliot's truck, she said, "I'm sorry, Eliot."

"Sorry for what?"

"For calling in Jack Mitchell. When I knew him, he was a good man—a man who could be trusted. I just thought it would be a less-violent solution to let the CIA police its own."

"Don't beat yourself up, Kat. It was a good plan, with the information you had. We should have thought of it. Not your fault the information changed." He gave a short bark of a laugh. "Seems we all had a plan, and we all tried to implement, but yours was the only one that almost worked."

"No, mine was the only one to this point that has had a chance to be revealed. I think it's time to implement yours."

"Mine was to follow him, watch him, and eventually shoot him. I'd rather not have to do that, but do you really think he's going to give us any peace so long as he is alive."

"No, I don't."

"There you have it, then."

"Maybe you should see what Vance's plan is before you decide."

Eliot didn't answer, and they drove silently for another twenty minutes or so, and then Eliot pulled into a parking deck, parked and turned off the truck. Looking around for any sign of anything that shouldn't be there, the two made their way into the building. Eliot led her to a secret room built into the middle of the place, like a hidden library, but he had turned it into a treatment room of sorts. Kitty was impressed. No one would know it was there until they were invited inside, and he had it stocked with every medical supply anyone could possibly ever find useful. As he sat down on the cot, his cell phone rang.

He answered, listened for a moment, and then hung up and looked at Doc. "I'm afraid we're going to have to put this off again for a while."

"Why?"

"It seems Conrad and Mitchell overpowered Shelley, and they left him for dead on the side of the road. He'll need medical care, and I smell a trap. The team is bringing him here, as they weren't sure whether it was safe to go back to the apartment. How are your marksmanship skills these days?"

"As good as always."

(0o0)

Ten minutes later, the team pulled in to the safe house, and Doc went downstairs to check Shelley for any injuries that needed immediate attention before they brought him in. Shelley was only semi-conscious, and there was blood everywhere. Doc wouldn't even know what his injuries were until they'd had a chance to clean him up. Hardison was carrying Shelley's feet, and Nate had his arms, underneath his shoulders. Doc walked next to Shelley, watching him carefully. Sophie and Parker went ahead of them to hold the door. As the rest of the group made their way slowly to the door, three shots rang out in quick succession, and one of them hit Doc in the shoulder, destroying her ability to return fire. Vance drew his pistol, and fired off a couple of rounds, but quickly discovered the shooter was too far away for a pistol to do them any good. They started moving more quickly, trying to get into the cover of the building. A second bullet hit Sophie in the lower leg. The third ricocheted off the pavement, and hit Vance, who staggered, but managed to remain standing. Eliot immediately returned fire, and the shots stopped. There was no way to know for sure whether Eliot's bullet had found its mark, but it gave them time to get safely inside. Eliot immediately sent Nate to move the van to the back of the building, knowing they would have to leave before this ended, and he didn't want to put anyone in danger to do it later. Better to do it while those shooting at them were still regrouping.

When he returned, Eliot said, "This is a secret room that no one can find if they don't know it is here. It has a secret staircase that leads to an underground tunnel that will end out back. I brought you in here because I wanted Mitchell and his gang to see you all come in. They'll be coming in here soon, and I plan to have a little surprise for them when they do. We'll treat everyone in the van. Nate, Hardison, you carry Shelley. Parker, help Sophie. Doc, walk with them. Take this first aid kit with you, and prep the supplies we'll need when we start treating people. I'll need your assistance with their care. Vance and I will hang behind for a few minutes, and we'll be out shortly. If you see anything that looks suspicious, leave. Go to the other safe house, or somewhere they won't follow. Vance and I can take care of ourselves, and we'll meet you there. Be careful with communication by cell phone or earbuds. This is the CIA. They can hear what you say if it is electronic. You have to assume they can, anyway."

Nate started to protest, but Eliot cut him off. "It's my job to protect the team. Go." When the mastermind still didn't move, Eliot's voice grew deadly. "Now!" he growled, in a voice that sent shivers up the older man's spine and served to mobilize him.

They laid Shelley out in the back of the van, and Sophie sat on the small metal bench that ran along one wall of Lucille, her leg up on the bench next to her. Doc, though cradling her left arm to her body, started pulling out and readying supplies with the other. Hardison and Nate took the two front seats, with Nate driving, and Parker sat in the center seat by herself. Less than five minutes later, Vance and Eliot reached the van. Vance took the center seat with Parker, and positioned himself sitting sideways against the side of the van, so that he could defend all entrances to the vehicle as needed. Eliot climbed in the back, and yelled for Nate to drive. The mastermind backed out, turned around, and drove out of the parking deck as quickly as possible without calling too much attention to them.

Eliot started with Shelley, with Doc to assist and advise, since she only had one hand at the moment. The hitter determined pretty quickly that Shelley had a concussion, and he must have been in pain, because he tried to fight as his friend began probing for broken bones and internal bleeding. Speaking softly under his breath, Eliot gently caught the hand that was trying to fight, pretty sure the fight was a result of the concussion, and continued tending his injuries.

"Doc, he's got three broken ribs."

"Did any of them puncture the lungs?" She asked, as Eliot took out a stethoscope and began listening to the young man's chest.

"It doesn't sound like it, but we need to be sure they are stabilized." Deftly, he wrapped the young man's ribs, growling under his breath all the while. That was the best he could do for the man's ribs without x-ray equipment. He cleaned and dressed the scrapes the man had from the beating he took, rubbed salve on bruises, and covered him with a blanket to ward off shock. He hated that he couldn't give his friend anything for the pain, but with the concussion, together with the fact that the man wasn't really conscious, they needed to watch him closely and therefore, didn't need anything masking any symptoms he might show.

Vance was the next worst hurt, as they weren't sure where his bullet ended up, and as Eliot prepared to treat him, a thought occurred to the hitter. He said, "All right, listen up everyone. All electronics off, now. We don't want to make it easier for them to track us or call in backup. Hardison, before you turn off, I need you to tell me the location of our friends."

Hardison touched some keys on his keyboard. "Looks like they are in the hallway outside the room we were just in. They will be going in any minute and figuring out we aren't there." There was a note of uncertainty, even fear in the young man's voice.

"See if you can scramble their signal, and then I want you to turn it off, too. Tracking them isn't worth the risk that doing so will enable them to track us. Mitchell and his goons will soon discover that we are no longer in the safe house, and though we left a few surprises for them there, I want to make it harder for them to get an exact location or to call in backup. We don't need to give them any more of an advantage than we have to." He started to climb over the seat to get to Vance, but as he expected, Vance waved him off.

"Treat the others first. I'll be fine until you are finished with them," Vance said.

"At least let me check the wound, and make sure it isn't too serious."

"The bullet was through and through. It hit me in the hip, though I don't think it hit an artery. I don't appear to be losing a large amount of blood. I'll sit here and keep pressure on it while you treat your team." His voice held a note of warning.

Eliot understood what he wasn't saying. Someone needed to be able to keep a gun on the door in case Conrad and his friends decided to come busting through it. Since Doc was hit in her shooting arm, Shelley was unconscious, and Eliot was a tad busy, it made sense for Vance to cover the door, and be treated last. Eliot had seen Parker point a gun at someone once, during a con, but he wondered if she would actually be able to shoot someone if she had to do so. That was something far different.

Everyone was so focused on what they were doing that they didn't see Vance with his phone out, looking at something on the screen. He typed something in to the program on the screen, then turned it off and put it in his pocket before someone had a chance to notice.

Smiling, Eliot looked at Sophie, and said, "Soph, you're up. Let's get that gunshot treated." He moved over to where she had her leg propped up, knelt on the floor in front of her, gave her a shot of morphine, and gently went about the business of removing the bullet. She cried out once, when he pulled the bullet through the hole it had made, despite the morphine, and he winced in sympathy. Speaking softly to Sophie, he placed a row of neat stitches, bandaged her leg, and pulled a blanket up over her, to ward off shock.

Then he helped Doc scoot over until her back was to the storage cabinets that ran along the other wall of the van, and he made preparation to sew up her bullet wound. He filled a syringe with a local, knowing she wouldn't allow him to give her morphine, and waited a few minutes for it to take effect before he began sewing up her shoulder. When he was finished, he tore a strip off of the bottom of his shirt, and made her a sling.

 


	21. Chapter 21

Once they arrived at the second safe house, and got everyone inside and settled, Doc took over door watching duty. Eliot started to protest, but she cut him off.

"Eliot, it seems you've forgotten one important fact about me."

"Really? What's that?"

"I can shoot with either hand. Look, I'm the one in the best shape to stand watch, except for you, and you need to take care of the Colonel. Though I can technically remove a bullet with one hand, too, it won't be much fun for him if I do." Seeing the wisdom of her words, Eliot nodded once and said no more.

Parker looked from one to the other of them, confused. "Wait, I thought we turned all of our electronics off so they couldn't track us."

Eliot shook his head. "We turned all of our electronics off so we didn't make it too easy for them. Are you kidding me? This is the CIA. If they want to find us, they will. It's only a matter of time, but there's no need to make it easier for them than it has to be."

"We'll have to time this next part perfectly, or it won't work," Vance mused, as he settled on the cot.

"Time the next part of what? What are you three up to?" Nate asked, wide eyed, and with a look on his face that Eliot couldn't quite read. The hitter could tell that the mastermind wasn't happy about being left out of the plan, though. Doc glanced at him and he knew what she was trying to say. It was a discussion she had been trying to have with him, and he hadn't wanted to listen, but it was necessary to say it now, in front of the team. For their sakes. He took a deep breath.

"What Vance means is, we can't stay here too long either. They'll figure out where we are eventually, and come for us. Nate, I told you at the beginning that this was gonna get bad. Vance and Doc and I—we'll keep the team safe and ensure that all of you get out of here. If all goes to plan, we'll all leave this place together, but if this goes south—I want you to promise me that you will take the team and Shelley and go somewhere else. Hide. Regroup. We'll keep Conrad and his men occupied. When Shelley's better, he'll know what to do. He can keep you all safe until you find another hitter." Eliot had been setting up the equipment he needed, and he now turned his attention to the man on the cot in front of him. He inspected the bullet wound, and prepared to remove it.

"Eliot, we don—"

Eliot shook his head. "Promise me, Nate."

Nate opened his mouth to say something and then closed it again. Eliot was worried, and in his experience, when Eliot was worried, there was cause for all of them to worry. He knew the hitter took his job seriously, and also that he didn't make promises he couldn't keep. If he said they would keep the team safe, then they would. How could he not give his friend the peace of mind of knowing that what he and his friends were getting ready to do for the team would not be in vain?

Vance groaned as Eliot dug the bullet out of his thigh, and then turned pale as the blood began to flow more freely. Eliot stemmed the flow of blood, and sewed a row of neat stitches. He bandaged the wound, and covered the man lying in front of him to ward off shock. Knowing that Vance wouldn't have much recovery time, he left the man to rest and looked at Nate, clearly expecting an answer.

"I promise, but I want you to make me a promise now."

"Yeah? What's that?"

"Promise me that you'll come home, in one piece, and explain all of this to us some time."

Eliot shook his head. "You know I only make promises I know I can keep." His eyes took in his team, then Vance, and then slipped over to glance at Doc, asking a silent question. She nodded.

After a short silence, she spoke, "Eliot, time draws short. They deserve to know what might happen to you when you come face to face with Conrad again."

Eliot nodded, but before he could speak there was a loud crash in the hallway just outside the door, and then the door flew open with force and smoke started to fill the room. Through it, they could see figures wearing masks pouring into the room, but there was no way to know how many there were. Eliot had to take a moment, in his mind, to admire the CIA man's resourcefulness. Doc couldn't take the chance of firing through the smoke, afraid she might hit someone on the team.

"Everybody, get down, now!" Eliot yelled, and Nate felt strong hands on his shoulders, forcing him to the ground. Hardison and Parker threw themselves at each other, and went tumbling down together, crawling over to a corner, out of the way, and then separating and sitting side by side, trying to see what was happening. Vance sprang up, faster than an injured man had any right to do so, in Nate's opinion, and scooping up the sleeping grifter, he hobbled over to Nate and deposited her beside him, and then turned back, ready to enter the fray.

Figures floated in and out of the smoke like ghosts. It put Eliot in mind of marksmanship training, where they were each sent through a room, with their pistols, and wooden figures would pop up before them, and they had a split second to determine if the figure was a threat or an innocent. He was good at that particular exercise, but he hadn't liked it then and he didn't like it now. Eliot was expecting Conrad to say the word at any moment, and he was trying to simultaneously move as far from the team as possible and get close enough to Conrad and his men to get as many hits in as possible before he said it, and Eliot lost control of himself. In the end, that's not what happened.

Conrad and his men were wearing masks, which covered their eyes and noses, and Eliot decided they must be infrared masks because most of their hits were finding their mark, and he felt like he was striking out blindly into the smoke. He couldn't see a thing. One of Conrad's men kicked him hard, and he heard the telltale crack of two ribs. The force of the hit spun him around, and a foot pushed him back toward his own team as someone yelped in surprise.

"Wait, we're being attacked with a  _potato gun?_ "

As the word connected somewhere in Eliot's mind, he let out a feral, wolfish growl, and began striking out viciously in all directions through the blinding smoke. There was no sense of morality, no right or wrong, no knowledge of who or what he was. There was only instinct.  _Hurt. Kill. Protect._ He grasped two men by their shirts and yanked them up and into one another, forcing each skull to slam into the other, and as he felt them go limp, he let go, and they slid bonelessly to the ground. He struck out again and again, kicking and punching, hearing the grunts as his fists made contact.

The disorientation of the smoke and the fuzzy quality of his brain made it hard for him to defend himself properly, so he took more hits than he would normally allow, as well. A particularly vicious uppercut connected with his jaw, snapping his head back and making him spit out blood. Before he could regain some sort of equilibrium, the hits started pouring in, and then someone tackled him and slammed him against the wall. He hit hard enough that the back of his head made a hole in the drywall, and Doc winced. She made a mental note to check him for a concussion later. He bounced off the wall, and crouched back into fighting stance, ready for more blows. A hand touched his arm and his hand shot out and caught the person by the neck, squeezing. He wasn't sure what effect the squeezing was having, however. His vision was fading in and out and he was floating on the edge of consciousness. Something came flying in from the side and hit him like a ton of bricks, taking his feet out from under him, and he hit the floor. Just as the blackness claimed him, he felt a knife-edged, stabbing pain in his shoulder, and then all went still.

(0o0)

Vance rose slowly to his feet, breathing hard, and hobbled over to check the rest of the team. Doc rose at the same time, and threw open the door, to clear the smoke. She began checking on Conrad and his men. Mostly to make sure that Conrad was actually with them. As she ripped their masks off, she didn't bother to be gentle. She didn't much care if she hurt them or not.

"Get them out of here. I'll start mopping up," Vance ground out, clearly in pain but unwilling to stop before the job was done. That sent a strange glimmer of pride surging through Doc. There truly was a reason they were the best field team on five continents.

Those of the team who were conscious and could walk carried those who couldn't, and they slowly made their way down the back stairs and to the van. As they reached the dim coolness of the parking garage, three figures moved toward them and Doc swore under her breath, in what Nate was pretty sure were two different languages. None of them were in any condition for another fight. They'd barely survived the first one. As the three figures drew closer to them, shots rang out and the three of them sank to the ground, clearly alive but disabled. As Doc stared in shock, a familiar figure approached the three guards and finished the job of knocking them out and tying their hands and feet together. They were then dragged one by one into the security closet and locked inside. No one would find them for quite a while, and by then, they'd be long gone.

"Mitchell?" Doc said, suddenly wary.

He shook his head. "No time. I'll explain later. Let me help get them into the van where they'll be somewhat safer." Doc hesitated for only a moment, and then nodded. She would trust him that far. When they were all settled, he said, "Vance?"

"Mopping up upstairs. Eliot too."

"I'll go see if I can help." He held out a slip of paper, folded once. "Take them to this address and get them settled. We'll meet you there." She was hesitant, and he wasn't sure whether it was because she was still questioning whether he could be trusted or whether she just didn't want to leave them. He put a hand on her shoulder and looked her in the eyes.

"Kitty, listen. I never sold you out. I'll promise you that. Conrad had backup waiting along the route, and they ambushed us when we were stopped for a traffic light. I thought they were going to kill us, but they didn't. They beat Shelley until he was unconscious, and then dropped him somewhere, and made me keep driving. When they got further down the road, I'd estimate about ten miles further, they did the same to me. It took me this long to come around and get back here. I don't have time to explain more right now. I imagine the plan will be compromised if Conrad or his men wake up before the boys are ready, which makes me think Vance and Eliot could use some help. If they don't trust me, they'll kill me, and you won't have to worry about it. Eliot's counting on you to keep his team safe. We're counting on you to get them out of here so we can finish up and get out, too. You can do this. There's nobody else."

Kitty nodded and climbed quickly into the driver's seat, as Mitchell disappeared up the back staircase. She knew where she was going, having been there once or twice before, in times of great stress. This was Vance's off the grid place. Mitchell knew she would trust that more than his, and he didn't know where her place was. Vance did, though, and she couldn't be too careful. Making a quick decision, she turned in the opposite direction, and sped toward a place only she and Vance knew how to reach. She took a roundabout route, making sure they weren't being followed. Her place was so completely off the grid that it had well water, a septic tank and solar panels. When they arrived, she paused long enough to send Vance a text, informing him of the change in plans. She pulled Hardison's van into the huge, state of the art barn, half of which she had turned into a medical facility. She quickly got out and closed the wide, wooden doors behind them, bolting them from the inside. Vance would let her know when she needed to let him in.

One by one, she got the team in and settled. Most of them were conscious by now, though some of them might not be after they received some much needed treatment. Shelley still wasn't conscious, and she laid him out on one of the beds, covering him with a thin, wool blanket to ward off the afternoon chill that would grow worse as the hour grew later. Nate sat in a chair in one corner of the room, eyes raking over his team, checking for injuries. He was worried about Eliot, she could tell. After helping Parker and Hardison sit together on a small bench on the other side of the room, so she could treat the moderate injuries they had received in the fight, she moved back over toward Nate and without a word, she turned on the small television and flipped it to a news channel, knowing that if all went according to plan, they should be seeing the place they just left on the news soon. Sophie still had morphine in her system, and was barely conscious, so as soon as she helped the grifter lie on one of the cots near Nate, she was out again. Without thinking about what he was doing, he rose and got a blanket and spread it over the sleeping woman.

A moment later, the news program they were watching was interrupted by a special alert of breaking news, and they all watched in horror as the safe house they had just left a few minutes before, a safe house that contained Conrad and his men as well as Vance and Eliot was suddenly engulfed in a ball of fire, as the explosion shook the ground and destroyed objects in the immediate vicinity.

"Eliot," gasped the other members of the team at the same time, in unison. It was a single word, but it contained all of their pent up frustration at Conrad and his quest to destroy the team, their concern for their friend, and the worry that he hadn't made it out. While the program was playing, Doc had been frozen in place, watching with the rest of them, and she gasped as the building exploded.  _That wasn't supposed to happen. Was it Mitchell? Was she wrong to trust him?_ Her heart sank as she realized that two of her oldest friends might just have died in that building. She felt something ice cold slip down into her stomach and paralyze her. She couldn't move. She couldn't think. She wanted to go off alone and let out the worry that tied her in knots—scream her fear to the four winds, but she knew it would scare the others. With nothing else she could do for Eliot or Vance right now, she threw herself into treating the team's injuries.

 


	22. Chapter 22

 Nate had been watching Doc since she got them in and started cleaning them up and treating their injuries. It had been over an hour. It was only early evening, but they were all exhausted from the events of this long day, and she had finally gotten the other to agree to lie down and rest. Doc had been watching Nate, too. He hadn't said a word since he came in, he simply sat and watched over the team, brooding. When she finished checking Shelley, she moved over to Sophie and picking up her hand at the wrist, she looked at her watch, counting out the grifter's pulse. Finished with that, she gently laid the hand on the bed beside the woman, and moved to the counter beside Nate. Reaching into an upper cabinet, she pulled down two tumblers and a bottle of scotch. She poured a splash of the amber liquid into each glass, and sat down in the chair next to Nate, handing his over as she did so.

"Thank you," he said, growing uncomfortable under the intensity of her gaze as she watched him.

"How are you?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine," he snapped, but her expression didn't change. She simply continued watching him.

When he didn't speak again, she said mildly, "You're worried about Eliot, and what his absence means for the rest of the team."

"You knew about this plan and didn't tell us. Why would I want to talk to you about anything?"

"It wasn't my plan, and therefore, it wasn't mine to tell. It still isn't. For what it's worth, I tried to get Eliot to tell you, though in his defense, I am not sure it was his plan either. I can tell you that the safe house was not supposed to blow up. That was never part of the plan." She paused for a moment, taking the measure of Nate.

He took that opportunity to look at her incredulously, and say, "You mean, you all follow a plan even when you aren't sure who came up with it?"

"No," she said, smiling, "but any of us will follow a plan one of the others made. We trust one another, from long years of experience." She paused for a moment, unsure she wanted to say the rest, but her instincts told her he needed to hear it. Finally, she said, "Do you think you're the only one who is worried? Eliot and Vance are two of my oldest, dearest friends. If anyone has the ability to survive an explosion of that sort and come back, relatively unscathed, it would be the two of them, but I'm worried, with every fiber of my being, that this will be the time that doesn't happen—that they've beat the odds one too many times before—that maybe it's my fault because I made a mistake in trusting Mitchell." Nate stared at her for a moment, and then said, "Sorry."

She shook her head. "I'm going to see what I can find to cook for dinner. Your friends will wake soon and be hungry. If you wish to help, keep an eye on them and let me know if anything changes."

He nodded, and she disappeared into another part of the barn, preparing to cook and contemplating what she hadn't bothered to say to Nate. If the plan had failed, and Vance and Eliot were blown up with that building, there was a good possibility that Conrad and his men might, even now, be searching for them. As much as she might think this hidey hole of hers was off the grid, and as much as the three of them had done to cover their tracks—there was one thing she knew with certainty: You can't hide from the CIA forever. If they want to find you, they will. She had lived long enough and had seen enough to know that. She also knew that while they were indifferent before—perhaps on the radar, but not raising much attention, they would now be considered enemies of the CIA, and that wasn't a place anyone wanted to be. She hoped this plan worked.

The news outlets covered the story of the explosion ad nauseum over the next four hours, and as the others awakened to eat dinner, and realized their hitter still wasn't back, the tension in the room grew and grew again, stretching and twisting until it started to turn to grief. Doc wanted to encourage them, to tell them that she had seen Vance and Eliot come back before, but she had to admit to herself that they hadn't been away for this long before without at least getting word to her somehow, and that it certainly seemed as though they'd have been back by now unless there was something wrong.

(0o0)

It was after midnight, and Doc was standing watch, the silent sentinel keeping everyone else safe. She had done it many times before, on various teams and under various conditions, but never had it meant so much to her. She was doing this for Eliot. And for Vance. They would want her to keep Shelley and the rest of the team safe. Exhausted, Nate had even finally consented to getting some rest, and she had put him to bed next to Sophie an hour or so ago. It had been almost eight hours since they had left the others and driven away from that safe house. She still couldn't get her mind around the fact that two of her oldest friends, two of the best men she had ever known, were gone. Her spirit refused to accept that. Something in the back of her mind sang denial, but she'd deal with that later. For now, she simply allowed it to happen in order not to fall apart.

Caught up in her reverie, she had assigned one part of her brain to sentry duty, so when she first heard the soft noise, she wasn't sure where it was coming from. It was a muted groaning sound, followed by a slight scratching noise. In an instant, she had raised the gun and pointed it at the door, knowing that Vance or Eliot one would have given her some warning if they were outside.

Then she realized the sound was coming from inside the room. Someone was waking up. She lowered the gun and looked around as Shelley stirred and then tried to sit up. She was by his side in an instant, with a restraining hand on his chest.

His voice was laced with fear when he said, "Who's there?"

A cold prickle of fear and concern slammed through her, freezing her insides. But Doc wasn't what she was for nothing, and she forced her voice to steadiness as she spoke.

"Shh, Shelley. You're safe. It's me, Doc Carrington."

His voice held a note of relief. "Doc." Then, he sounded confused. "Why can't I feel anything?"

"Probably the pain meds." He nodded, seemingly relieved at that.

A moment later, a look of sheer panic crossed his face again, and he said, "Doc? Why can't I see you? I can't see anything."

"Shh," she soothed, somewhat alarmed, but injecting more confidence into her voice than she actually felt. "Relax. It's the after effects of what you've been through today. I'm going to give you some more medicine." She filled a hypo as she spoke to him, and injected him with it, breathing a sigh of relief when he faded off to sleep again. She found herself hoping, with every fiber of her being, that what she had said was actually true, and his problems were only temporary.

Now that there was nothing for her to do except listen to the soft, steady breathing of those she was charged to protect, she found herself with too much time to think. The sadness that had been swimming around the back of her thoughts for the past eight hours hit her with the force of a hurricane and threatened to overwhelm her. Silent tears poured down her face, and she was embarrassed to cry where others might see, but she realized, at the same time, that she had no other outlet for grief she could no longer hold back. As she cried, she felt like something poisonous was being leached from her body, and when it was gone, her spirit felt lighter.

She heard a commotion outside the barn, and a scratching sound, and then someone was banging on the door and there was muffled shouting. Her heart dropped down into her stomach as she quickly grabbed the gun again, fearing the worst. Had Conrad's men found them? How? She cocked the gun and snuck quietly out into the larger room in the middle of the barn, debating whether or not to unbar the door. It would hold against Conrad and his men for awhile, and maybe she could figure out some way to bring Eliot's team out of this all right. It was the least she could do for him.

 


	23. Chapter 23

She closed the doors of the medical room, and hid herself in a smaller storage room, in hopes of picking them off one by one before they got to the medical room, where the team was sleeping. A moment later, she let out a shrill, piercing scream as someone in the storage closet put a hand on her shoulder. A hand came up to cover her mouth, and she was spun roughly around as a voice like sandpaper, which she didn't recognize, sounded in her ear. The grip on her mouth and her arms was that of an expert, and she couldn't have broken away if she had wanted to do so, but that didn't mean she wasn't going to try. She stepped backwards, planting one foot between her assailants spread legs, and then, quick as lightning, she brought that knee up in a groin strike. Her eyes widened slightly as the strike didn't have the effect she intended. She still made contact, and she had no doubt that it hurt, but at the last moment, her assailant stepped backwards also, out of range, and pinned her arms to her sides, and lifted her off the ground, holding her away from the body, so that any kicks she decided upon would not have their intended effect either. This person was good. She found herself sitting on the ground, hands secured behind her, and the light from a flashlight blinding her a second later.

As she lowered her head, trying to escape the light, the voice spoke again.

"Doc?" The light was lifted, and pointed another direction, and she could just make out the form of Colonel Vance towering over her, a confused look on his face. "Why are you hiding in your storage closet, attacking people?"

She heard the amusement in his voice, and she couldn't help but smile at the mental image that thought conveyed. Sheepishly, she said, "I heard something outside, and had no way of knowing whether Conrad's men had found us or whether it was you, Colonel. I planned to pick off as many as I could before they came through the door. Eliot?"

"He and Mitchell are outside. Both are barely conscious and can barely walk. Help me bring them in—they need immediate treatment." He saw the way she was looking at him, and he spoke again, "Mitchell saved our lives. I couldn't leave him behind. I'll explain everything once we are somewhere warm and they are being treated."

Vance released her arms and helped her up and together they brought the two men inside. Eliot was conscious enough not to allow himself to be carried, much to Doc's frustration. She was grateful that it was only Nate who woke up during the chaos that ensued from getting the two men into the treatment room and onto cots.

Nate slipped silently to a chair, knowing Eliot would tell him to go back to bed, but wanting to make sure his hitter was all right. He watched as Eliot assessed the team, and the facility, and saw the respect in his eyes as he took in Doc's place. As injured as Eliot was, and as much as he must be hurting, he wouldn't sit and allow treatment until he had accounted for each member of his team, and his eyes had assessed their condition.

Doc put a hand on his arm, and spoke quietly, "They're all fine. I've treated all of their injuries, and put them to bed to get the rest they need to start healing. They'll be happy to see you when they wake up in the morning. They've—we've been worried about you. All of you." At this point, she stopped and speared Vance with a glare that could melt lead, and he winced. She continued, "If I recall, this team has had a longstanding policy of informing team members on guard duty of the approach of those returning from combat, and since I knew Eliot didn't have his phone, that duty fell to you." She tilted her head to the side, and continued, "You almost got shot."

Vance visibly flinched.

It was times like these that Eliot was reminded that she was every bit as capable of command as Vance was—she and Eliot both were, for that matter—and had Special Forces regulations been written differently, she might have been the one in command of their unit all those years ago. And she outranked Vance on all things medical anyway, so he, rather wisely, in Eliot's opinion, decided he owed her an explanation, and from her tone that explanation should clearly be forthcoming. Eliot decided it was time to try to diffuse the situation. He had learned long ago that he didn't want Doc treating him when she was angry. That didn't make for a pleasant experience for either of them.

Glancing a warning at Vance, he smiled that  _you-can't-stay-mad-at-me-I'm-Eliot-Spencer-and-I'm-sexy-_ smile, an Eliot Spencer original, which had cracked tougher nuts than Doc. There had never been anything romantic between Kat and him, as their friendship meant far too much to both of them to risk ruining it with a relationship, but that had never stopped him from engaging in some innocent flirting with her, and he knew her reaction to it tonight would depend on how truly angry she still was at them.  _Useful information, in either case._ If her relief that they were back in mostly one piece and submitting without argument to treatment had started to outweigh her anger and fear and stress at having to protect the injured for the past nine or ten hours without knowing anything about where Eliot and Vance had been or even if they were still alive, in addition to not knowing if Conrad and his goons were about to come busting through her door, then the smile just might work. If not, well, he might be grateful that only Nate was awake to see him ducking for cover.

"He planned to let you know, but his phone must have fallen out of his pocket during the fight, and it was destroyed when the building exploded." The smile returned as he finished speaking, and he softened his eyes in the mix.

She stopped in the middle of gathering her supplies and pretended to slam the tray down on the counter in front of her, hard enough to make them all jump, and spearing him with a mock-glare as she did so. She almost had him fooled, but she giggled at the last moment, in spite of herself, and then said, "Dammit." Eliot chuckled at that.

"All right. Fine," she said, voice softening. "Further explanations can wait until tomorrow. Let's get this wrapped up and get to bed. It's late and they'll be up before too long, and they'll still need care. You can be first, soldier-boy." With that, she placed a hand in the middle of his chest and gave him a gentle push backwards, and he lost his footing and landed splayed out on the cot behind him.

He sat up fast, and wished he hadn't when a jolt of razor sharp pain knifed through his skull. He glared at her, but she just glared right back, pulling a rolling stool behind her as she came back over next to his cot and started sorting her supplies. He decided it was probably best not to push his luck. Her anger had given way to something else—something they only saw in her once in awhile, and therefore had no real hope of reading, but her actions told him she wouldn't truly hurt him in the treatment.

"Tell me what your injuries are, and I won't make you strip here in front of a room full of your teammates who could possibly wake up to see it. And don't lie to me. You know better."

He nodded, licking his lips to moisten them, and started listing his injuries. "My headache tells me I have a concussion, probably mid grade, a couple of broken ribs, my bad shoulder and my left knee have been dislocated, and Vance relocated them again for me, and the rest is mostly bruises, scratches and cuts."

When he fell silent, Vance spoke up. "You'll want to check him for internal bleeding, too, Doc." She gave Eliot a sharp look, and Vance spoke up again. "He probably doesn't remember, but he got kicked pretty hard in the kidneys right before he was given that concussion."

"I see." She reached out and helped Eliot sit up, and her hands were gentle as she unbuttoned his shirt and started probing his ribs and kidneys. She came to a hard spot on his back. "Does that hurt?" she asked, pressing in.

"Yes," he hissed, and since it wasn't a large spot, she decided she would keep an eye on it, and see if it stopped on its own. It was about to be one Hell of a long night.

Nate made a mental note to ask Doc later how she got the hitter to be so truthful about his injuries. He didn't downplay them with her, and Nate wondered if it was because he knew she would know, or if it was something else. Two of Eliot's ribs were definitely broken, and Nate watched as she gently wrapped his chest, both fascinated and impressed by the interplay between them. She did a neuro-check, and informed Eliot that he was correct. His concussion was indeed a medium grade. She set a five gallon bucket next to him, in case he needed it during the night.

She cleaned and bandaged the scrapes and cuts, and rubbed salve on the bruises, and then she picked up the bucket and motioned him to follow her. He motioned to Mitchell and Vance.

"Get them settled first. It can wait a few more minutes." She nodded.

She moved over next to Mitchell, who was also unconscious, and examined him, but he didn't appear to have any injuries that couldn't be fixed with a little aspirin and a lot of rest. She woke him briefly to check for a concussion, and treated his cuts and bruises. He had gotten extremely lucky. Eliot and Vance had broken his fall, and Vance had mostly patched him up. Vance tried to wave her away when she examined him, but she pinned him with an icy glare and cut off any further protest. After convincing herself that the man would live, and Eliot had already done as good a job as she could patching him up, she gave him a shot of morphine so he'd be able to sleep, covered him with a blanket, and turning to Eliot, she said, "Well, come on then." He rose and took the bucket from her, following her as they moved toward the door.

As they headed outside together, past Nate, he asked, "Where are you going?"

"I have to check his shoulder and knee. Vance knows first aid, but if he didn't relocate those joints exactly correctly, they'll cause Eliot even more problems. I don't want to wake the rest of the team, or disturb their sleep, so we're going outside, so he can shout all he wants, if he needs to do that.

Vance heard what she was doing and tried to rise to go with them, in case Doc needed help, but the last vestiges of his energy seeped out of him, and he sank back down on his cot.

Seeing what was happening, Nate asked, "Do you need help?" Doc glanced at Eliot, who almost imperceptibly shook his head.

"We'll be fine. Why don't you try to get some sleep? Morning is just around the corner, and we still have some loose ends that'll have to be tied up."

Nate looked like he was about to protest, so as Eliot walked by him, he laid a hand on his shoulder and guided the mastermind back into his chair.

"Stay here. I don't wanna scream like a banshee in front of you. It tends to scare people." He smiled, quickly, and then it was gone. Nate nodded. This was the man he knew. Eliot was back and safe, and he'd be all right. Nate was convinced of that now.

They stepped outside, and a few moments later, Nate heard what sounded more like a loud growl than a scream, and then another. Eliot was leaning heavily on Doc when they came back in, and as she laid him out on the cot, his eyes rolled back in his head, and he passed out. She watched, a bit worried, until a few moments later, when his breathing softened and evened out, and she knew that his unconsciousness had turned to sleep. She breathed a sigh of relief, and settled in to watch them.

(0o0)

_He was a child again, sitting on the bottom of his favorite fishing spot at the lake, feet spread out in front of him, fascinated as he looked up and studied how the light played on the water. He watched the tiny bubbles float up from around his nose and mouth and watched as they danced around one another, all the way up to the surface. He felt the need within himself to start swimming toward the light, and the blackness that surrounded him gave way to a softer gray, and then an almost transparent brownish green._

As he hovered there, on the edge of consciousness, he heard unfamiliar voices, and he felt his body tense as something within him put him on the alert. Startlingly blue eyes snapped open to see Doc looking down at him with concern. He could tell she was worried, and he wondered what had happened.

"Kat," he said, softly. As his eyes moved around the unfamiliar space, and he realized he didn't know exactly where he was, he grew even more tense and tried to sit up, wishing he hadn't when a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

She put out a hand to stop him. Seeing the confusion on his face, and the tension it was causing him, she spoke up quickly in a whisper, putting a finger to her lips with one hand and handing him a trash can with the other as she did so. "Shhh. The others are still sleeping. Don't try to sit up. You have a fairly severe concussion, a dislocated shoulder and knee, and at least two broken ribs. You've lost quite a bit of blood, and should be feeling pretty weak right now. The trash can is in case you feel the need to vomit."

He nodded to confirm. "Where am I?"

"This is my secret, off-the-grid place. It was the safest place I could bring your team, since only Vance and I know its location."

"What happened?" he asked.

"What do you remember?"

"Not much. I remember fighting Conrad and his men in a room full of smoke, and I briefly remember leaning on you and Vance, coming in here. I don't remember much about what happened in between, but I feel like something did."

All of her patients were resting for the moment, so she settled into a chair next to him and took his hand in hers. Vance moved up to the other side of him and, sitting down on the cot beside his, said, "I think I'd better tell you both this story."

 

 

 


	24. Chapter 24

"After the team disappeared down the back steps, the smoke started to clear sufficiently to see the people in the room better. Eliot had been hit hard, and hit the wall even harder, and so, he was still out. Because of that, I was mopping up by myself. I tied Conrad and his men up, getting ready to deliver them to some friends, and I don't know how Conrad did it, but he had backup teams swarming the building before I was finished tying up Conrad's last man. They were fighting me pretty hard, and I was taking a beating. Mitchell came up the back stairs and joined in the fray. We were holding our own for awhile, but we were starting to reach our limits. They might have won had they not forgotten about Eliot. All of us can fight more than one person, and generally more than two or three—they were expecting that, but they weren't expecting Eliot to wake up and rejoin the party. Between us, we had turned the tables again, and it was all over in less than ten minutes. Eliot and I got everyone tied up, while Mitchell set the mystery explosives."

"Mystery explosives?" Doc asked, curious.

"The explosives that just appeared in the room at the time we needed them?" Eliot smirked.

Vance stopped and looked sideways at Eliot, who laughed weakly at his expression.

"Suffice it to say, after the team had to blow up our first office in L.A., I keep explosives on-hand at all times, in case they are needed."

Another look flashed across Vance's face, and Eliot said, "What? They're stable."

Choosing to ignore his friend, Vance continued the story. "With the injuries we had, we barely made it out of the building before it blew, and then we knew we had to get somewhere off the grid and hole up so we could get everyone's injuries treated. We also had to move two or three times to avoid being discovered. I wasn't coming out to your place until I knew we wouldn't be followed."

(0o0)

Shelley began to stir again, and Doc rose and moved over next to his cot. Taking his hand in hers, she started speaking softly to him and wiping his face with a warm, damp cloth. When he opened his eyes once again, she smiled.

"Mister Shelley? Can you see me?" He nodded, and she silently breathed a sigh of relief. "Glad to have you back with us. How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been run over by a cement truck."

"Better than feeling nothing, like before." She helped him sit up, and a few moments later, walk. Moments after that, she sent him to the attached bathroom for a hot shower. It would help with the stiffness.

(0o0)

Now that the team was safe once again, and those on the team who were injured were now on the mend, they each felt the need to escape the closed in places in which they had been cooped up for the past number of days, to feel sunshine on their faces and share private thoughts outside of the hearing of others. Since Doc's safe place had a good amount of land attached to it, it provided them the opportunity to do just that, while keeping them close enough to satisfy her.

Nate and Sophie were the first to venture out. Sophie still wasn't walking well, so they moved only as far as the little wooden porch on the other side of the barn, where Doc kept a small, one-bedroom apartment. Hardison was next, getting antsy after having gone so long without being able to get online. He planned to find the highest hill on Doc's property, and see if he could bounce a signal off a passing satellite, He wanted Parker to go with him, but she was with Doc, having her stitches removed. Vance, Shelley, and Mitchell had moved to one of the open air storage stalls and were lost in conversation, making plans to tie up loose ends.

When Doc finished removing Parker's stitches, she skipped out the door to catch up to Hardison. Eliot looked at Doc and said, "We have some loose ends of our own to tie up, don't we?"

"We do. Are you wanting to do that here, now?"

Eliot knew what she was really asking. Did he want to do it in a place where members of his team might walk back in in the middle of it.?

"I thought we might take a walk of our own."

"Are you up for that?"

"More than. I haven't really been outdoors in weeks. Not for any length of time, anyway."

"All right. Are you up for a hike to the summit of Little Blackfoot Mountain? My land backs up to it." Eliot thought for a moment, then smiled his consent. It was strenuous enough to get their blood pumping, but it wasn't very strenuous at all. It was perfect.

"Sounds great. As much as I'd love to take camping equipment and stay out there overnight, I think, for the team's peace of mind, we should try to be back before dark."

"I agree. I don't think you're up for staying overnight right now, anyway."

For the next hour, they walked up the moderately steep incline until they reached the summit of the small mountain known as Little Blackfoot Mountain. It was so named because it was right next to the larger, steeper, Blackfoot Mountain. From the top, they could see for miles. What looked like stone seats were carved into the side of the mountain, positioned in such a way that when a person was sitting in one of them, they couldn't see any of the other seats or anyone sitting in them, and legend had it that the Native Americans who walked the land before the arrival of the first European settlers came had carved them for tribal elders. There was no way to access them anymore, perhaps because of the natural erosion.

Eliot sat down on one of the larger rocks on the trail's terminus, and started rooting through the knapsack he had brought with him. Doc sat a short distance away, watching him. If she wasn't mistaken, Eliot was nervous. He never moved without purpose, except that that was exactly what he was doing right now.

"Eliot? Are you ready to get started?"

"No, but let's get started anyway."

"All right. Close your eyes."

He closed them, and she started speaking softly. He went under again quickly.

(0o0)

Parker hadn't been able to find Hardison, so she started looking for something tall from which to repel. She was starting to feel out of practice. She didn't have her climbing gear with her, though she might look later to see if she had a spare in Hardison's van. For now, she settled for jumping from tree limb to tree limb to practice. Sometimes, she was jumping on one tree, sometimes she was going from tree to tree. Parker was caught up in what she was doing, and having a blast.

She jumped the last few branches on one tree, and sat in the top, resting. When she heard the voices below her, curiosity got the better of her, and she stretched her body out until she was lying across the fork of a large branch, high in the tree. It was then that she realized the voices she was hearing belonged to Doc and Eliot. She started to get down, knowing Eliot likely wouldn't appreciate company while this was going on. As she reached the ground, preparing to move away before anyone saw her, she heard a murmured word from Doc and then a violent growl from Eliot. She spun around to find Eliot advancing menacingly on Doc.

"Eliot! No!" she screamed, horrified at the man she saw before her. This was not her Eliot. She ran over to Doc and Eliot, and with a roar, Eliot's arm shot out and closed around Parker's throat, lifting her off the ground and pinning her to a tree. She was struggling to breathe, and her eyes were terrified.

"Eliot, the word potato has no meaning to you, other than food." She could see that her words were having little effect, and she suddenly knew what she would have to do. Reaching into her bag, she took out a syringe, and with no time to waste, plunged it into the side of Eliot's thigh. With a growl, he turned, causing him to let go to Parker, who slid to the ground, and then he took two steps toward Doc and fell face first on the ground, out cold. Doc moved to check on Parker, but the little blonde thief had already risen shakily to her feet, and without stopping to think too much about what she was doing, she disappeared into the trees.


	25. Chapter 25

With a sigh, Doc settled in to wait for Eliot to wake up. There was no way she could get an unconscious Eliot out of there on her own, and she wasn't about to leave him. She couldn't help thinking about Parker, and how frightened the young blonde was. She also thought about Eliot, and how much it would bother him to know he hurt Parker. Doc wanted to cry. They still hadn't found a way to eradicate the trigger word from Eliot's mind, and she was starting to wonder if she could.

  
A moment later, she heard a twig crack in the underbrush, and she felt her senses rise to the level of hyper-awareness. She heard a special whistle, and answered it. Seconds later, it sounded again. Again, she answered. Then, Vance became visible through the trees, leading Parker along with him.

  
"What happened?"

  
"We went after the last trigger again, and Eliot went out of control. He started choking Parker."

  
"Are you out of your mind? Why didn't you bring me with you?"

  
"You were busy with Shelley and Mitch, and both of us thought we had gotten most of it last time, so it wouldn't be as big a threat this time. I'll need to do some more research if we're going to get rid of this thing."

  
"Let's get him back to the house."

  
While they were occupied with getting Eliot back to the house, Parker disappeared again.

(0o0)

Two hours later, Eliot opened his eyes, and lay perfectly still, looking at the ceiling.

  
"Eliot?" Doc said, noticing that he was awake.

  
He didn't respond, and she proceeded to examine him, to make sure all was well after their foray on the mountain. She knew better than to do anything to Eliot without explaining what it was she was doing, but he wasn't responding to anything she said. He let her do what she needed to do, though, and she wasn't under any sort of illusion that it would be happening if he minded. She supposed that was a good sign. Doc wouldn't deny that she was slightly worried about him.

  
"I assume you remember what happened?"

  
Eliot didn't answer, he just turned to face the wall. Her heart broke for him as she sat watching him. Her voice was dangerous when she said, "Eliot, I promise you we're going to find this thing and fix it." He still didn't answer, but she caught the slightest nod.

"I've been doing some research while you were sleeping, and I think I have an idea that might work. Do you think it's safe to go back to the team's headquarters?"

  
"Can the team stay here?"

"If you trust Shelley to keep them safe. Vance won't allow us to work on this without him—not after what happened."

  
Eliot nodded, then suddenly turned over and sat up, spearing Doc with an intense gaze," Why?"

This was the part Doc had hoped to discuss later, but she knew if she wanted this to work, she had to be honest with him.

"Two reasons. I think I figured out why this isn't working, first of all. And I think you need to be in a place you feel more comfortable. That's the second reason."

(0o0)

Eliot was lying on the cot in the treatment room he had set up in Nate's apartment. Doc and Vance were seated in the living room, waiting for someone. They didn't have to wait long. A moment later, there was a knock at the door. Vance opened it to find Master Yu standing there.

  
"Master Yu, come in. Allow me to introduce you to my colleague and friend, Doctor Catherine Carrington. She'll fill you in on the changes in Eliot's case, and you will decide together how to help him."

"What has happened?"

"That's a long story, and one I would prefer to allow Eliot to tell you, if he will. Eliot's a very good friend, for a very long time now. We just want to help him."

"What did Eliot say about all of this?"

"He doesn't actually know what we are planning. He's been in a bad place since something happened with one of his teammates earlier today, and he hasn't been speaking to anyone any more than necessary."

"I will not be a part of this without speaking to Eliot first." With those words, he rose and made his way into the treatment room. Doc and Vance looked at one another in mild surprise, then Doc followed, while Vance stayed outside to guard the place.

"Master?" Eliot asked, a little surprised to see him. Doc stayed back near the door.

"Hello, my friend. I didn't see you at the gym this week, so I thought you might have gotten yourself into some more trouble. It appears I was right. Care to tell me what happened?"

"Kat? I know you're in here. Come over here and talk to me." Doc walked over to stand next to his bed. Those intense blue eyes speared her. "Did you bring Master Yu here?"

"It was Vance's idea, but yes. We've tried three times now to get rid of that last trigger word, and haven't been able to do it, so I think we need to talk about some other options. We both thought that Master Yu's particular skill set might be beneficial."

"You didn't think it might be prudent to discuss that with me before now?"

"Vance said you have a great deal of respect for Master Yu, and you haven't really been fit to discuss much today. We just want to help you—get you back to your team—and we thought, since it was someone you knew, you wouldn't mind. Do you?"

"Do I mind that you brought him here? No. Not if that's what we all determine is necessary. Do I mind that you didn't discuss it with me first? Yes, for although I know that you don't have to discuss your treatments with anyone, we've always made a policy on this team to be truthful with one another, whenever regulations allowed, and sometimes when they didn't."

"My apologies, Eliot. You've been so different since you woke up, both Vance and I were worried you might not act in your own best interests, and in a case like that, it is my responsibility to do so."  
Eliot sighed. He knew they meant well. "So, tell me what it is you want to try."

"I'd like to fill Master Yu in on what we've done over the past week, and see what suggestions he might have that might help."

"All right."

"Good. Thank you for letting us help."

Master Yu spent half an hour looking at Doc's records of treatments tried during the previous week. After reading through it all, he was seeing the beginnings of a pattern taking shape. He said nothing, scribbling notes on a piece of scrap paper as he read the file. Finally, he looked at Eliot and said, "What does your body tell you is going on?"

"Other than the obvious—that it is physical as well as mental—I'm really not sure."

"That's a larger issue than you seem to think it is. The other two words, the ones that you were able to clear easily, were decoys. This is the real one, and if you consider how many times it was used in the week you were there, you will understand how deeply rooted it is in your subconscious. It is also related to specific physical actions—actions performed over and over, either there or in everyday life. Therefore, it is going to take both a physical and a mental attack on this thing to end it. The first thing we need to do is get your life force flowing properly again. When something like this happens, that vital energy is interrupted, and as you know, when it is interrupted, that is when bad things, such as illnesses, happen. My recommendation is an acupressure massage, in which both pressure and heat are applied to specific points on your body, in sequence, to help get your vital energy flowing again, freely. After that, a fairly strenuous training session and a hot shower should help keep it flowing as it should. Then, we will attack the command in your mind, and it will be easier to neutralize. You'll need some time for meditation when it is done, and we may need to repeat the routine more than once, depending on how deeply it is rooted, but I can't find a reason this won't work. We'll watch your diet while this is going on, just to make sure nothing you're eating induces nightmares, but I think that is the extent of what we'll have to do. Are you ready?"

"Yes," Eliot said, relieved that there was nothing worse. This was daunting enough.

Master Yu had him change clothes, so that he was wearing shorts and a tank top. While Master Yu knew that he never wore shorts, except rarely while in training, he needed to be able to access all of the pressure points on Eliot's body, and that would be more difficult in pants. Eliot still wasn't much in the mood for talking, but he was glad to have a plan. Starting at his temples, and working on one side, while Doc worked on the other, Master Yu showed Doc how to access the pressure points in a sequential pattern over his body. They went through the sequence three or four times before they were finished. Afterwards, Doc stayed behind to prepare for her part of the plan, and Master Yu and Eliot moved into the small gym Eliot had set up for training.

Master Yu said, "Prepare yourself for walls of defense."

Smiling slightly, Eliot took an extra bandana out of his pocket and tied it around his eyes like a blindfold. Then, he stood waiting. What followed was a series of lightning fast strikes, punches, and kicks, all of which he blocked without seeing. Forty minutes later, thoroughly spent and drenched from the workout, Master Yu sent him off to take a shower.

Fifteen minutes later, Eliot was seated on the cot again, toweling his hair dry. He stretched out on the cot and closed his eyes. Doc bound his hands to the sides of the cot, started an IV, and began moving deeper and deeper into his mind. When she thought she was deep enough, she said, "None of the trigger words implanted in your mind have any meaning to you, besides their literal meaning. They are not attached to any actions, and will not make you do anything. When I say the word, you will have absolutely no reaction." She paused a moment, and took a deep breath. "Potato."

At first, nothing happened, and she thought it worked. Then, with a growl, he began to struggle against his bindings. Immediately, she started digging deeper in his mind. She repeated the process.  
Finally, the fourth time she repeated the process, he had no reaction when Doc said the word, so she said it again, just to be sure. Again, nothing happened. The true test would be after Eliot woke up. If nothing happened then, she would know that they had managed to eradicate the term from Eliot's mind. Now it was just a matter of waiting for him to wake up.


	26. Chapter 26

Parker had climbed to the top of one of the tallest trees on Doc's place. When she was sure there was no one else around, she allowed herself to think about Eliot, and she was shaking hard as she started to cry.

"Parker?" She heard the voice below her, and glanced down to see Nate and Sophie standing there.

"What's wrong, sweetie?" Sophie asked.

Parker didn't want to tell her. She didn't want the rest of the team to hate Eliot, but she knew Sophie wouldn't let it go until she told her.

"Eliot…I surprised him while he was working with Doc. She said something and he started toward her, and he looked like he was going to hurt her. I yelled for him to stop, and he started choking me." She was breathing hard, almost panicked, but trying to force herself to calm down.

"Parker, Eliot has something inside him that makes him dangerous to us. That's why he's been reluctant to touch any of us. He came here so Doc could help him get it out. That's why he choked you—it isn't out yet, and they were probably trying to get it out—so it was on the surface. You know he would never, ever hurt you if he could help it, don't you? He'll be really upset when he finds out that he hurt you."

"You think so?"

"I know so. I know Eliot. He's always protected you and everyone else on this team, and I think if you give him a chance, you'll see that this was an accident."

(0o0)

Eliot's eyes snapped open. He started to sit up, and found himself bound to the cot. "I've kept you bound because we have to be sure that the trigger words won't be a problem, now that you are awake. Are you ready?"

Eliot nodded once, without speaking.

"Potato," she said.

Nothing happened. They waited, and then she said it again. Again, nothing.

She released the bonds on his hands and helped him sit up. She handed him a beer.

"Congratulations, Mister Spencer. We did it. Drink up. We need to get back to my place. You have some unfinished business to attend."

At that remark, he grew quiet again.  _Parker._  What he had done to her was unspeakable, and he didn't know how he'd ever get her to forgive him. He wasn't sure he deserved her forgiveness.

(0o0)

When Doc, Vance, and Eliot arrived back at her place, Parker was nowhere to be found, but Nate and Sophie were waiting for Eliot in the treatment room.

"What the hell were you thinking?" Sophie asked. "Parker doesn't trust anyone easily, but she trusted you, and you repay that trust by choking her?"

"Dammit Sophie—when are you going to learn to stay out of things that don't concern you?"

With that, he left her with her mouth standing open, stormed out of Doc's treatment room, and took off through the trees, looking for Parker. He finally found her because he heard her sobbing. He climbed the tree she was in as quietly as possible, not wanting to spook her again, and when he reached the same level she was in in the tree, he sat with a zen-like stillness, watching her. A second later, he quietly said, "Parker?"

She saw him then, and looked like she wasn't sure whether to bolt and run or to stay. She flinched away, and his heart broke. She had never been afraid of him. One of his hands shot out and closed around her wrist. Her eyes widened, and she started to panic.

"Parker," he said softly, "Settle down. I'm not gonna hurt ya. I just wanted to apologize." He let go of her wrist. If she was going to leave now, it would be her choice.

"You choked me."

"I know, darlin'. I'm sorry. I would never hurt you if I could help it. I hope you know that."

"Why did you hurt me?"

"It's a little hard to explain. When I was in that cell on the college job, the people in charge of the experiments left some words in my mind that could make me dangerous to you. When you walked up on Doc and me, we were working on making that word go away, and Doc says I focused on you because you were closest, and you spoke to me. The command made me do things I would never normally do."

"You're Sparky. You hurt other people. You protect us."

"I know. I'll understand if you're a little bit afraid of me for a while, but I promise, you can trust me to protect you, and I will do whatever I have to do to prove that, and to make up for what I did."

She smiled. "It's okay, Sparky. Let's go home." He knew there was more to it than this, but he also knew Parker was tired of talking about it, and just wanted to move on. He would have to prove to her for a long time to come that he wouldn't hurt her, and would always be there to protect her, but that was something he would gladly do, for as long as it took. She was worth it. They all were.

(0o0)

As they moved toward the cars to go back to Nate's apartment, Eliot said, "Sophie, you're with me." He had no idea if she'd actually consent to ride with him or not, as she was almost always with Nate, but to his surprise, she agreed, and climbed into the passenger seat next to him.

Vance, Doc, Mitch, and Shelley said their goodbyes, and Doc made it clear to Eliot that she was stopping by in a week to check on him. He backed out, and there was silence until he reached the main road.

Finally, she broke the silence. "Eliot, I wanted to apologize for what I said about Parker. I should have trusted that you planned to make it right with her."

"Yes, you should," he paused, then flashed her a quick smile and said, "but I understand why you did it. It's all right."

"Is that the reason you wanted me to ride with you?"

"No. I think it's time we talk about another issue."

"What's that?"

"You don't like seeing me use a gun." It wasn't a question, and the way he said it made her uncomfortable, like he felt it was an insult to him, but she knew she couldn't lie.

"No. I don't."

"Sophie, you do know I killed a lot of people in my past, don't you?"

"I know that. But you aren't that man anymore."

"And that man scares you, doesn't he?"

"A little bit, yes."

"I guess I can understand that, but I need you to understand that I will kill again, if needed. If it comes down to your life, or the lives of any of the team, as opposed to someone else's, I will take that other life, and I won't think twice about it. I won't take any joy from it, but I also won't hesitate to do it. If that's a problem for you, it's something I'd rather work through now, before it becomes an issue down the line."

"I know you may have to kill again in the future, and I'm grateful that you're always around to protect us, but that doesn't mean I have to enjoy thinking about you killing people."

"No, it doesn't, Soph. You don't have to enjoy it. Hell, I don't enjoy it, and I appreciate you being my voice of reason when it isn't necessary to kill. When it is, I want you to promise me that you won't step in and try to stop it. If I hesitate at a time like that, I could get us all killed."

"I'll do my best. That's all I can promise. That, and the fact that I will support whatever decision you make when the time comes."

"Fair enough."

They arrived back at Nate's apartment a few minutes later, and everyone went their separate ways. They wouldn't take a new job for another few days, as everyone needed time to complete their recovery. Doc would check on them all in a week, and Eliot would use the time in between to make repairs to his burned safe house. He wouldn't be surprised if some of the others showed up to help, but whether they did or didn't, he was happier than he could say that things were getting back to normal. For now, he would stay at the apartment he rented in the city, the one he used when they were working and he didn't want to drive all the way out to the country house.

As he stepped up on his doorstep, he reached down and got the newspaper he had delivered each day in the name of one of his aliases, poked it under his arm, and unlocked his door. He put his keys in the bowl on the foyer table as he walked in, and after the normal sweep he made upon returning to any place he hadn't visited in awhile, he sat in his favorite chair to read a bit before bed. One of the simple pleasures of life, as far as Eliot was concerned, was reading, and newspapers helped him stay on top of what was going on in the community. As he unfolded the paper, a single headline caught his eye. Six CIA Operatives Die in Explosion. He scanned the article with a sense of dread, which he couldn't explain, until a moment later, it hit him. Withdrawing his phone from his pants pocket, he dialed a number and put the phone to his ear.

"Vance, did you see the article in today's issue of the Tribune?" He listened for a moment and then continued, "My question is this: was it just my concussion or did we have eight men tied up in that building when we set the explosives?" He paused again, listening, and then said, "the article said there were six bodies found. Yeah. Let me know what you find out. Thanks Vance."

He hung up, hoping it was only a typo or that the FBI was withholding the true number for some reason. Vance should be able to ask around discreetly tomorrow and find out. He wouldn't worry until he knew there was something to worry about, and with a yawn, he folded the paper neatly, so he could finish reading it over breakfast, and padded off to bed. Man, but It would be nice to sleep in his own bed for a change.


End file.
